Do No Harm
by AylenBc
Summary: When Bella Swan meets a mysterious, slightly reserved man whose eyes are older than the rest of him, she soon comes to notice that there's always a touch of sadness in his smile. What is the reason behind that ancient sorrow in him? What keeps this lonely man awake at night when the rest of the world is sleeping? BxC AU/AH
1. The Kindness Of Strangers

**A/N (3/19):** _**Hello! First of all, many thanks to Dollybigmomma for working on this story! Without her, this story would be filled with numerous typos and grammatical errors. As a non-native speaker, I learned a lot of things just by talking to her. Thank you, again!  
**_

 _ **A quick word about this little tale. This story has been bugging me for years, it simply begged to be written, and I was actually supposed to write this one before I even began to work on Paths to Entwine. I began to write Do No Harm at the beginning of July, and by the end of October, I was writing the epilogue. I've never written this much in four months, and it still baffles me that I survived without any major writer's blocks. I know this sounds very cliché (and this also sounds kind of like Stephenie Meyer, forgive me for that) but the idea for this story actually came to me in a dream, and it never left me alone.  
**_

 _ **As said in the summary, this is going to be an All Human story. To be honest, there was a time when I didn't understand the point of those. I mean, this is Twilight, for goodness' sake. It's supposed to have vampires in it, right? It's not Twilight if no one's going to get bitten at some point, right?**_

 _ **Back when I was still an active fanfiction reader, I pretty much skipped every single All Human story, because I automatically thought they weren't my thing. But then, I remember running into a Bella/Carlisle story, in which all characters were human, and I suddenly realized that, okay, this human thing might actually work. Therefore, one might say that this little story of mine was inspired by that particular fic.**_

 _ **I don't think I ever actually finished reading that story, though - maybe the author was posting it at the time, and at some point, I quit keeping an eye on the updates or something of the sort. And here's the thing; I couldn't remember the name of that fic, even if my life depended on it. I tried to look for it a couple of days ago, but it's kind of hard, since I have no idea about the name. I can't recall much of the plot - I only remember that Charlie was in that story, Carlisle was his friend, and Esme was Carlisle's sister, maybe? I think Alice was somewhere in there, too, and someone was about to get married/someone got married, but I'm not sure. And I also remember that the story was, ahem, hot. As in, I-have-to-take-a-cold-shower-now, hot.**_

 _ **So, please, a desperate call of help to all veteran Bella/Carlisle fanficion readers/nerds out there, if someone knows the name of that story/has a vague idea about it, please hint. I'd love to give it a read when I have time, since I don't think I ever managed to finish it. I hope it wasn't removed or anything. I remember discovering it around the time New Moon came out as a movie, if that helps, so the year must have been 2009 or something.**_

 _ **(Edit: Found the story! It's called What Happens at Charlie's Wedding by velvetbutterfly!**_ _ **Thank you, Goldielover!)**_

 _ **Anyway. This story is going to be a little more fast paced than my two other ones. It's also going to be a little lighter and more playful, and there will be more smut. Not insanely a lot, but more than I originally planned. But even though this story has a light, playful side to it, there will also be some pain, drama and darkness. Some chapters deal with very heavy and painful subjects, so the reader should be prepared for that.**_

 _ **Rating: M for language and smut**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I still don't own The Twilight Saga. Stephenie Meyer does.**_

 _ **I hope you enjoy, and as always, I'm more than eager to know what you think!**_

* * *

 _ **"We were all heading for each other on a collision course, no matter what.**_

 _ **Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story."**_

\- Jandy Nelson, _I'll Give You the Sun_ -

* * *

 **The Kindness of Strangers**

"How about that guy?"

Rosalie's voice made me lift my gaze from my coffee. It wasn't the words that caught my attention – it was her tone. There was poorly concealed eagerness in it. As I met her gaze over the table, tiny alarms began to go off in my head, because the look in her eyes matched her voice.

I glanced at the young man passing our table; he was looking for a place to sit. The lunch hour was starting, and the place was packed, but of course, I could trust Rosalie to find the most good-looking man in the busy café. She had an eye for these things. For men, that is.

Men's eyes, on the other hand, seemed to watch _her_ wherever she went. I remembered it had started around the time she had turned fourteen, so I had gotten used to it.

Too bad she was taken. I always felt bad for the guys who sometimes came up to her to flirt and start a conversation. The bold ones asked for her number right away. Rosalie always disappointed them; she had been in a happy relationship for a long time now.

Since we had grown up together, Rosalie and I were like sisters. Not that we looked like sisters – she was blonde, curvy yet athletic, and her eyes were a startling shade of blue-green. I, on the other hand, had inherited my looks from Charlie. I'd always been thin, but it would be a joke to say I was athletic. Not to mention curvy.

"Well?" she asked me, quirking her eyebrows. I glanced at the young, brown-haired man who was still looking for an empty table.

I gave her a smile and rolled my eyes. "He looks a bit too young for me."

"Oh, come on," she huffed. "Bella, that's a poor excuse. How _old_ do you think you are?"

"Well, sometimes, I feel like I'm forty."

"Which you're not. You're twenty-four, soon to be twenty-five, and if you continue that way of thinking, someday, when you're actually forty, you're going to feel like you're fifty-six. How does that sound?"

"Depressing."

"Exactly. And don't do this," Rosalie frowned and pursed up her lips, apparently to mimic my expression. "You're going to get frown lines."

I smiled. "Well, that wouldn't be too bad. I could come to you, then, and you could give me that vitamin...acid...exfoliation…treatment?" I frowned, shaking my head. "Or something like that."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. Apparently, she had deemed me a hopeless case when it came to cosmetology terminology. She was in her dream job, working at her mother's beauty salon. The business would probably be hers one day.

On the other hand, I wasn't so sure if _I_ was in my dream job. I'd been working as a waitress here for over three years now. I liked the job, and some days, I even loved it. It was sometimes exhausting, though. I considered myself an introvert, and therefore, constant interaction with people and staying polite, no matter what the situation, was sometimes challenging. Not to mention staying on your feet for hours without a break had the tendency to wear you out. The good thing was, I never needed to work out. My job was my exercise.

"Seriously, though," Rosalie said again, giving the young, brown-haired man another glance. "I'll wave him over. He's still looking for a place to sit. Please, Bella? His hair is the same shade of brown as yours. It's like the universe itself is trying to send you a message."

Maybe she thought her eagerness was contagious. Sometimes, it was – it was a mild expression to say that Rosalie was a radiant person. She'd always been like my own personal star. Or a sun.

I smiled and shook my head. Rosalie sighed in frustration, apparently thinking I was being stubborn on purpose.

"Honestly, Bella, you have to get back into the game." She leaned towards me over the table. "When was the last time you got laid?"

I was just about to take a sip from my coffee as she said that. Not a good idea.

"Rosalie!" I wiped my mouth with a napkin and glanced down to see if I was now wearing my coffee as well.

"What? It's a relevant question."

I sighed, knowing I should have been used to this by now. Rosalie had always been more open about these things. On more than one occasion, she'd perked up my day by telling me how many orgasms Emmett had given her the previous night. It was needless to say that I was a little different when it came to these things – I wanted to keep certain things personal.

Her eyes were still on the brunette man. She flung up her hands in disappointment. "Aw, now you lost your chance. He found a free table."

"Too bad."

I tried to ignore her stare as I began to gather up our sandwich wrappings. I counted to five inside my head, knowing the silence wouldn't last any longer than that. She only made it to three, before she began to speak.

"Are you saying you're never going to date again?" she asked. Her tone was gentler now.

"No. That's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying I'm not into it right now. I'd rather spend some quality time alone, to be honest. Maybe I need to discover myself again or something, as cliché as it sounds."

"Are you still thinking about him? James? It's been a year, after all."

Like always, hearing James' name made me both angry and sad. And like always, I took a deep breath and felt almost instantly better – it had taken me months to achieve that.

"No. I don't think about him at all, actually. It's kind of nice." I gave a dry laugh. "And besides, if I found myself thinking about him every day, or even once a month, I'd probably want to pour bleach into my brain."

Rosalie shrugged. "I can't blame you for that, considering what he did. I promise you, Bella, if I happen to bump into him, I'll take a pair scissors and – "

"Whoa," I cut her off, knowing what was coming. "Don't make me your partner in crime by making me listen to what you're going to do to him."

She smiled. "Fine. But you should know you missed the best detail."

"Does it have something to do with bleach?"

"You read my mind."

"Sounds painful."

She shrugged again. "That's what you get for cheating on my best friend. And for doing _that_ to you." She gave a pointed nod at my arm. I had a scar that ran from my wrist up my arm; it was likely that it would never fade. It was the only visible scar James had given me. When I'd found out he was cheating on me, I had confronted him about it. The martyr in me had told me I should have known what was coming next. James had gotten mad, and he had nudged me, and thanks to my poor balance, I'd had no way to stay on my feet. I had tried to grab something as I fell, and my hand had knocked a glass off the kitchen counter. It had shattered, of course, and like expected, I had fallen right on top of the shards. Somehow, James had managed to blame _me_ for that, claiming I had fallen just because I was clumsy.

I had walked out that day, obviously. And I had returned the next day with Emmett and Rosalie, and they had helped me pack my things. James hadn't been home – that was probably the only reason why he hadn't ended up in a full-body cast. Maybe that was why he had stayed away that day. Maybe he had known I'd return with backup called Emmett McCarty.

"Are you sure you're over him?" I heard Rosalie ask, drawing me away from my thoughts.

"Believe me, I was over him the moment I saw him fooling around with that girl. In _our_ apartment. In _our_ bed."

Rosalie nodded, accepting my answer. She knew my words were honest, and she also knew I wouldn't pretend to be alright if I truly wasn't. There were no secrets between us.

"Then, why don't you start dating again? I'm not pressuring you – that's not what this is. I just want to know how you feel about it. Aren't you lonely?"

I gave her a smile. "Well, it's not like I don't have _any_ social life. I have you, and I also see people here at the café. And I went out with Eric, remember?"

"Eight times, if I remember correctly."

I gave her a long look. "Do you keep a diary about my love life or something? That was two months ago, after all."

She laughed. I saw a man at the next table turn to stare at her, giving her an appreciative look. I was sure Rosalie saw it as well, but she ignored it.

"Why did you really end it with Eric? You told me you were too different, but that's not the whole truth. I know it."

I shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, James and I lasted almost two years. It was the longest relationship I've had. We even _lived_ together, for goodness' sake. And all that came to an end during one single day. When I said I'm over James, I meant it. But maybe...maybe I'm not over what _happened,_ you know? Maybe I'm just not ready to risk that something like that would happen again." I paused, searching for words. "Eric was nice, and I was being honest with you, when I said we were too different. But..."

"But there was also a small voice inside you saying you shouldn't give your heart away just yet?"

I shrugged. "I guess. Maybe. Like I said, I just want to spend some more time alone." I gulped down the rest of my coffee to get more time to think. I tried to search myself, wondering if I was feeling like this because of what had happened with James, or in spite of it. I'd always enjoyed my own company, and so, being alone had never been an issue with me. I'd noticed how some people seemed to lose themselves completely after the ending of a relationship. There was nothing wrong with it, not really – if you lost someone important to you, you were supposed to feel it. It wasn't supposed to be easy. But eventually, you were supposed to be able to move on. Right? Depending on the person and the circumstances, it could take a few months, or even a few years.

There were also those who could never move on. It made me wonder if the love they had lost was somehow greater. Or did those people simply love deeper than some others?

It made me wonder why walking away from James had felt almost...relieving. I had cared about him – that much was certain – and that was why his betrayal had felt so terrible. But had I been _in_ _love_ with him? At the beginning of our relationship, I'd felt like I was infatuated with him, but maybe that had been because he had known how to be charming. Maybe I didn't even know what it really felt like to be in love.

I had known him for almost two years, and suddenly, it had turned out I hadn't known him at all. It was frightening to realize the person you had trusted could turn out to be so different than you had believed.

"I was about to suggest that a series of one-night stands does miracles for some people," Rosalie began, smiling teasingly, "but I have a feeling it's something you're not interested in."

I shook my head. "Not really. I'd rather spend some quality time in bed with a book, as you know."

"Well, if you change your mind, Emmett has a single friend. He's not looking for anything serious, so..." she trailed off meaningfully, giving me a mischievous smile.

Rolling my eyes, I glanced at the clock and noticed my break was almost over. I knew Rosalie had to leave soon as well, but her time wasn't as tight as mine. And besides, she didn't have to walk to the salon; she usually drove here, whenever we agreed to spend our lunch break together.

She got up, preparing to leave. I got up as well, tightening my red apron, before I began to tidy up our table. I took the wrappings to the trash and collected our cups.

"We're going to catch a movie with Emmett tomorrow night. Want to come?" Rosalie asked, before heading for the door.

"Sorry. I have a late shift tomorrow," I told her. "Some other time? Next week, maybe?"

"I'll hold you to it."

"I have one condition, though." I narrowed my eyes at her, pretending to be miffed. "During the movie, I'm going to sit between you two. Last time you asked me to come with you guys, you and Emmett didn't even bother to watch the trailers."

"They were boring. And so was the movie."

"How would you know? You didn't _see_ it. And I thanked my lucky stars the theatre was dark, and therefore _I_ didn't have to see what you were doing. I think you and Emmett actually managed to traumatize the teenage boys sitting behind us."

"Nah. I believe they were enjoying themselves. Who knows – maybe they even learned something from us."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, giving her a wave, as she left the café. As I made my way behind the counter, relieving the other waitress so she could take a break in turn, I idly thought to myself that someday, Rosalie and Emmett would get arrested for doing something indecent in public, and I'd probably be the one to have to bail them out.

* * *

I woke up the next morning to the sound of rain hammering against the window. It wasn't the first time rain had acted as my alarm clock, and it wouldn't be the last. After four years of living in Seattle, I had gotten used to the weather. For some reason, though, I wasn't immune to the sound of raindrops beating against my bedroom window; it always woke me up.

It kind of frustrated me now. Since I had a late shift at the café, I didn't need to get up just yet. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, I gave up and dragged myself into the shower. This was one of the reasons why I preferred earlier shifts – I could never sleep past eight in the morning.

It was still raining when I left for work a few hours later. My old Chevy's windshield wipers protested as I turned them on high. One got stuck, before I had even managed to leave the parking lot of my apartment complex, and I had to get out and fix it. It only took a minute, but I was drenched when I got back in the car. I turned on the heater, wiping a wet strand from my face as I drove to the café. It wasn't that far away from my apartment, only a little over a mile or so, and when the weather was good, I liked to walk there. It wasn't often, though. Rain was nearly a constant companion in Seattle.

It seemed the universe had decided that I was going to have a challenging day. I tripped in the parking lot, and I broke the fall with my palm, possibly spraining my wrist. This was nothing new, considering my clumsy nature, but as the afternoon wore on, it seemed as if there was more to come. The café was crazy busy, and at least ten customers either dropped or spilled their coffees or teas, and I felt like I spent half my time running around with a cleaning rag. My wrist began to ache after a few hours, reminding me of the fall I'd taken in the parking lot earlier. It wasn't swelling, though, so that was a good sign. By now, I knew pretty well if my occasional injuries needed medical attention. I tripped all the time, after all.

Luckily, the rest of my shift was more or less uneventful, and by the time I was free to leave for the night, I was actually smiling. My wrist was no longer bothering me, either, and as I made my way to my truck, I stuck out my tongue at the spot where I had stumbled a few hours earlier, pleased about my victory.

I was out of bread and juice, and I decided to make a quick grocery run before going home. I headed for the market nearby, and about half an hour later, I climbed into my Chevy again, placing the grocery bag on the passenger seat next to me. I had to resist the urge to yawn – I was suddenly tired. Eager to get home, I slid the key into the ignition and turned it. I began to fantasize about a hot, relaxing bath, and that was when the universe got in the way again.

The truck refused to make a sound.

I cursed quietly, putting my forehead to the steering wheel. This was what happened when you were too optimistic. After counting to ten, I got out and walked to front of the truck, lifting the hood. It opened with a groan, as if to protest my desperate attempts to fix whatever was wrong. Even the truck seemed to know I didn't speak "Car."

What was it again Charlie had told me to do in situations like this? I wrapped my arms around myself; the August evening was slightly cool after the rain.

"Damn it," I murmured to myself, wondering who to call. Rosalie and Emmett were at the movies tonight – they couldn't help me. I considered calling Charlie and explaining the situation, but I didn't want him to get worried. It was getting late, and if he heard I might have to walk home, I knew he'd rather come here and help me than lie awake, fearing I'd get mugged. He had an early rise tomorrow, and I didn't want him to drive four hours here all the way from Forks.

I muttered another curse and tried to think of what to do, when a smooth, pleasant voice startled me.

"Is everything alright?"

I jumped slightly and whirled around to find a tall, blond man standing a few paces away from me. He was carrying a small grocery bag, and he raised his free hand in a soothing manner.

"I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to startle you like that." He chuckled softly – my reaction seemed to amuse him. "I was walking by and...well, it sounded like you might be in trouble," he gestured at the raised hood of my truck.

The man was kind of...beautiful. I hadn't known it was possible – men who were handsome were just...well, handsome. But this man...he had a refined, sculpted face and high cheekbones. The sun had set behind the grey clouds almost an hour ago, and the parking lot of the market was dark except for the lamp posts, but I could easily see that his eyes were blue. Like, _really_ blue.

I shook my head to snap out of my thoughts, realizing he was waiting for my answer.

"Uh...yeah. My truck...it won't start. I think the battery died. It's an old truck, so..." I shrugged, giving him a small, self-conscious smile.

The man nodded. "I see. Do you need assistance?"

I hesitated. "I have a friend who might be able to help, but she's out tonight. I was just considering calling someone else."

He nodded again, hesitating. "I have a set of jumper cables with me," he offered. "Why don't I get my own car and see what I can do?"

Wow. Kind strangers really did exist. "I don't know, I mean...I don't want to trouble you."

"It's no trouble," he assured me, giving me a kind smile. I felt like my insides had turned to jelly. "I'm parked just over there. I'll be right back."

"Oh. Well, okay. Thanks," I managed to say.

I tried to get a hold of myself. What was the matter with me? The man was obviously handsome – or beautiful, more likely – and very kind and polite, but I'd also noticed he was a lot older than me. A _lot_ older. And I didn't even know him. I had just met him, for goodness' sake. There was no need to feel breathless; my lungs didn't seem to understand that.

The man returned a minute later, driving a black SUV. He parked next to my truck and went into the back, taking out a set of cables.

"Have you ever jump-started a car before?" he asked me.

I shook my head no. He took a quick peek under the hood of my truck and turned to me, giving me a reassuring smile.

"The battery doesn't seem to be leaking acid or anything. That's good. Is the transmission in neutral?"

When I nodded, he got to work, explaining everything he was doing. It was kind of nice – someone else might have assumed that, just because I was a woman, I either wouldn't understand or be interested. But the man went through the whole process, point by point, and I found myself enjoying the sound of his smooth tenor. He had a pleasant voice, deep but soft.

"Thanks for doing this," I told him, when he was connecting the cables. "I think Charlie – I mean, my dad – told me a few years ago how to do this, but I've totally forgotten."

"I take it this hasn't happened before?"

I shook my head. "No. I've never had any problems with my truck. I know it's old, and I might have to replace it someday, but..." I sighed, brushing my fingers against its rusty surface, "I'm kind of fond of it. It eats a lot of gas, but I don't know how I can give it up. My dad got it for me when I turned seventeen."

The man gave me an understanding smile. "I see. I'm sure it's a good truck. They don't make vehicles like these anymore." He connected the last cable. "Alright, try to start it."

I got inside the truck, turning the ignition. It started on the first try.

"Yay!" I gave the man a pleased smile and got out, leaving the engine running.

"That's great." He smiled back, disconnecting the cables and lowering the hood, before he went back to his own car. "Now, I suggest you drive around at least fifteen minutes to recharge the battery."

"What if it doesn't start tomorrow?" I asked, hoping I wouldn't have to walk to work in the rain.

"Well, it means the battery isn't holding a charge for some reason or another," the man explained. "If that's the case, it needs to be replaced. I'd keep an eye on it, especially when the weather starts to turn colder." He put the cables in the back of his car, giving me another dazzling smile. "Will you be alright?" he asked considerately.

I nodded. "Yeah. Thank you again. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't turned up."

He smiled, as he went to the driver's side of his car. I tried to ignore the way my stomach fluttered as he looked back at me. "You're very welcome. I hope you have a safe drive home."

"Thanks. You, too."

As he drove away, I raised my hand to wave goodbye. Then, I climbed inside the truck, my stomach still fluttering strangely. I quickly turned off the heater, because I noticed I was suddenly feeling way too warm, almost hot. Even though the evening air was cool, I rolled down the windows as I maneuvered out of the market's parking lot, suddenly realizing I hadn't asked the kind stranger's name.


	2. In His Eyes

_**"You know, you can steel your heart against any kind of trouble, any kind of horror.**_

 _ **But the simple act of kindness from a complete stranger will unstitch you."**_

\- Chris Abani -

* * *

 **In His Eyes**

The next morning, my truck started without a problem. I considered asking Emmett if he could take a look at it, just to be sure, but he was a construction worker, and I knew he was very busy. Therefore, I made a mental note to take the truck to a repair shop as soon as possible.

The rest of the week passed uneventfully. Every now and then, I found myself thinking about the blond, kind stranger I had met a few days ago, wondering who he was. I still got all fluttery whenever my thoughts drifted to him, and it confused me. I told myself it was only because I'd been pleasantly surprised to receive help from someone I didn't even know. Nothing had compelled him to come and help me out, after all. It was nice, even comforting, to know people like him still existed.

For some reason, it still vexed me that I hadn't asked his name. I didn't know why it bothered me so much – I'd suppose it would have been nice to know at least _something_ about him.

I made the mistake of telling Rosalie about what had happened. We spent Saturday together; she got to decide where we shopped, and I got to decide where we had lunch. I wasn't into shopping, but I put up with it, because I knew Rosalie enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed good books.

"So, this mystery man," she began, raising her eyebrows playfully, "Was he prettier than me?"

I grinned. "You know, he might've been, as impossible as it should be. He was blond, and his eyes were like..." I shook my head, searching for words, "They were this deepest shade of blue. Not blue-green like yours, just blue. Like really _, really_ blue." I got shivers even thinking about his eyes.

"You sound like you're quite, hmm... _taken_ with him," her voice was teasing.

I rolled my eyes. "Come on. I don't even know his name."

Rosalie pulled a burgundy blouse from the rack. "Here, try this. This color looks perfect on you."

Knowing resistance was futile, I took the blouse and slipped into the fitting room, hearing her trail behind me.

"Why didn't you ask it, then?"

I pulled the curtain between us and wiggled my way out of the sweater I was wearing. "Ask what?"

"His name, silly."

I gave a laugh, as I pulled on the blouse. "Why would I have? It's not like I'm going to see him ever again. I don't even know if he lives here."

"Exactly. You can't know that." She pulled the curtain open, not bothering to ask if I was dressed, and stepped inside. She gave me a once-over. "Wow."

I turned to look in the mirror. "What? What are you wowing about?"

Rosalie gave an exasperated sigh. "Well, _look_ at yourself. That color is perfect on you. It compliments your fair skin and dark hair."

I frowned at my reflection, admitting that I liked what I saw, but still, I couldn't say I understood anything about these things. "Really? You think so?"

"Bella, sometimes I think you're either very stubborn, or you just fail to see yourself clearly. Or both." She met my gaze in the mirror. "And now, back to the original topic. What if the man who helped you lives here in Seattle? You can't know that. Who knows – you might even bump into him again."

I shrugged, looking away from her eyes and pretending to study the material of the blouse. "So what? You think I'm going to walk up to him and ask him out or something if our paths cross again?"

" _Yes_." She said it very slowly, as if I was a little slow-witted. "He obviously had an impact on you. I can see that. I've known you all my life, and I've never seen you this...I don't know, confused?"

I chuckled. "Confused?"

"Well, yeah. It clearly bothers you that you didn't ask his name. Don't deny it."

"Okay, maybe it does bother me. A _little_. But the fact remains that he was just being nice to me. He simply saw I was in trouble, and he helped me out. There was nothing more to it than that. He was very considerate and polite, and I'm sure he would've done it for anyone. And besides, he was a lot older than me."

Rosalie pursed up her lips in a pondering manner. "What's up with you and age, Goldilocks? The man at the café was too young, and now, this one is too old," she sniffed. "How much older was he, then?"

"I don't know. Uh...maybe forty?"

"But under fifty?"

I nodded. "Yeah, maybe. I don't know."

Rosalie's smile was mischievous. "You know how they say men only get better with age? I'm sure there's a reason for that." She winked at me.

"Stop it." I rolled my eyes and smacked her arm gently. "There's no point talking about this, anyway. He's probably married. I can't see why he wouldn't be." I remembered the deep, stormy blue color of his eyes, and my stomach fluttered again. I tried to ignore the feeling.

"Was he wearing a ring?"

"I don't know. I didn't look."

Rosalie sighed. "There are clearly some things I haven't been able to teach you. Bella, when you see something you like, the first thing you have to do is to take a look at his _left hand_. From now on, you'd better remember that."

"You know, it doesn't really tell anything about a person if they wear or don't wear a ring on their finger," I argued. "My dad still wears his wedding band, and it's been over twenty years since he and my mom got divorced."

"And that's exactly why you have this." Rosalie reached out to tap my lips with her forefinger. "I suggest you use it. You say, 'Excuse me, Sir, do you have a special someone waiting for you at home? Because if you don't...'" she trailed off meaningfully, looking at me from under her eyelashes. Those were her bedroom eyes, I assumed.

I stared at her, torn between amused and appalled. "You don't actually deliver lines like that, do you?"

She smirked. "Not anymore. I don't have to. I have Emmett now. Although, sometimes, we have these little role-plays, and there are actual lines involved. One night, I pretended to be–"

"Oh, my God! Stop right there, I've heard enough!" I raised my palms to my ears. Rosalie laughed brightly. Trying to ignore what she had said – and trying to banish the mental images – I turned to face the mirror again, studying the burgundy blouse.

"Okay," I sighed. "You know, I actually like this. I'll take it."

There was a pleased smile on Rosalie's lips as she slipped outside, pulling the curtain between us again.

"Where do you want to go to have lunch? Have you decided yet?"

I said the name of our favorite place, and I heard Rosalie give a soft laugh.

"But we always go there."

"Well, there's a reason why it's our favorite restaurant."

* * *

Next week, I went to the movies with Rosalie and Emmett like I'd promised. I also carried out my threat and sat between them, unwilling to see anything X-rated that night. I made it halfway through the movie, when I finally got up, unable to stand their linked hands that rested in my lap, and the suggestive glances they were constantly giving each other.

"Fine, you hypersexual weirdos," I whispered, pretending to be miffed. Rosalie giggled quietly as she switched places with me. Their obvious affection towards each other didn't really bother me – I actually found it kind of sweet. They had been together for two years, and they still looked at each other like they had just met. Like they had just fallen in love. I wondered idly when Emmett would propose to her.

The rest of the week was busy. I had a lot of late shifts at the café, and every night when I came home, I went straight to bed, unable to stay awake any longer than was necessary. I'd always been an early to bed, early to rise type of person, and since staying constantly on my feet was practically part of my job description, that obviously added to my weariness.

As if to make my week even more packed, my truck refused to start again on Wednesday morning, and I had to call Rosalie and Emmett for help. After Emmett had jump-started it, he gave me the number of a mechanic who was a friend of his. I called him later that day, and he told me I could bring the truck as soon as the next afternoon. Apparently, the shop was more busy than usual, and that was why I couldn't get the truck back until Monday. It was fine by me – I could walk to the café and back home on Friday, and luckily, I didn't have any shifts during the weekend.

Rosalie offered to act as my personal driver, but I refused, knowing how busy she was with the salon. And besides, I liked the thought of walking for a change, especially when it turned out that the weather was getting better. It was raining in the morning when I woke up on Friday, but by the time I had to leave for my shift in the afternoon, it turned out I wouldn't need an umbrella.

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of work. It was funny that sometimes, Friday was the calmest day of the week at the café, and other times, it was the busiest. I'd learned to recognize some of the regulars who would always come for a coffee on their way home from work or school, and they always celebrated the weekend by buying more pastries than normal.

It was close to nine when I was free to leave. I changed out of my waitress uniform, replacing my red apron and black shirt and pants with my own clothes. As I was shrugging on my coat and gathering my things, I checked my phone and noticed my mom had called. Knowing she always stayed up late, I decided to call her back as I left the café and began to head for my apartment.

As I waited for her to pick up, I started to wonder if I should have taken a cab after all. I felt like walking, though, despite the fact that I noticed it was beginning to rain again. That was why I decided to take a shorter route to my apartment, to avoid getting drenched. I didn't know this area of the city very well, but I remembered I had taken this shortcut once or twice before.

My mom answered – she seemed relieved to hear my voice. I knew why. We usually took turns calling each other, and I realized I had neglected my part – the past couple of weeks had been busy. She understood, of course, and when I told her about my truck, she suggested I should start saving up for an actual car – she had never understood why I was so charmed by the ancient vehicle Charlie had given me. She also seemed concerned about the fact that it was getting late, and I was walking home. I managed to put her mind at ease when I told her I didn't have to work this weekend, and I'd get my truck back on Monday.

She told me Phil – her new husband – had broken his leg the previous day. He was a baseball player, and sometimes, I thought he was even more accident-prone than I was. It wasn't a good thing, considering what his occupation was.

"Oh, that's too bad," I said. "Just when his shoulder began to feel better, this happens."

" _Tell me about it,_ " Renée sighed. I could imagine how she shook her head. " _Now, he's even more helpless than he was with his shoulder. Can you imagine how grumpy he is, when he can't do anything? Bella, I swear to God, I love him with all I have, but the man drives me crazy sometimes."_

I chuckled and told her to send him my best. We talked idly for a few more minutes, and then, we told each other goodnight.

As I put my phone into my bag and turned the corner of the street, I realized that choosing a shorter route hadn't helped me much. It began to rain more heavily, and as I sped up my pace, I came to realize something else as well; I couldn't recognize my surroundings.

I began to wonder if I had taken a wrong turn while I had been talking with my mom. My current route was taking me down an alley between apartment buildings, and I was pretty sure this wasn't the shortcut I had used before. I couldn't remember this alley.

Pulling my hood over my head in a vain attempt to shield myself from the heavy rain, I considered turning back and trying to retrace my steps. Hesitating, I slowed down and glanced behind me.

And that was when I realized that turning around wasn't a wise idea at all.

Someone was following me. A man. I wondered how long he had been walking behind me. He was about thirty or forty paces away, and I turned to look ahead of me again, speeding up my steps. Forcing myself to stay calm, I told myself that maybe his purpose was the same as mine. Maybe he was hurrying home as well.

I didn't look behind me again until I was at the end of the alley and about to turn the corner. My heart began to hammer in my chest as I glanced over my shoulder again and realized my follower was much closer to me now than he had been before. Since I had sped up my walk a moment ago, it could only mean that so had he.

 _He's just probably in a hurry to get out of this rain_ , I told myself. _Who wouldn't be?_

Nevertheless, I kept my pace brisk as I turned the corner. What I saw made my lungs feel like they were on the verge of collapse. There was another alley ahead of me, narrower and even longer this time. I knew it for certain, then, that I had taken a wrong turn at some point, while I'd been preoccupied with my phone conversation. I quickened my pace, knowing very well how clumsy I got whenever I had to run. The chill that ran through me had nothing to do with the cold rain as I glanced over my shoulder again, noticing the man who was following me was getting closer. I estimated the distance between us was now less than twenty yards.

I tried to think quickly. For a moment, I considered dropping my bag – I had some cash in my wallet, and if money was something he was after, maybe he'd leave me alone, but a small voice in the back of my mind told me my follower might be something far worse than a mugger. I swore to myself I'd never go outside without my pepper spray ever again.

I listened intently for his footsteps, but the rain was so loud that it drowned out all other sounds. Would it drown my voice as well? Should I try to scream? My throat felt dry – I wasn't sure how much volume I could manage.

I continued to walk as quickly as I could without actually running, focusing on the end of the alley a few dozen yards away from me. I hoped it wouldn't be just another deserted street waiting for me there, and I was relieved when I saw a car drive by; there would be more people around, once I got out of this alley.

I glanced over my shoulder again. What I saw made me slide my bag off my shoulder and grip the strap with one hand. I was no longer considering surrendering it – I was considering using it as a weapon if the situation so demanded.

The man was closing the distance between us. There was a small, sudden change in his posture, in the way he moved, and in an instant, I knew what would happen next.

He began to run towards me.

I reacted instantly, breaking into a run as well. The adrenaline rush that coursed through me was so strong, it made me feel almost dizzy. I forced myself to look straight ahead – there was no point looking over my shoulder anymore. It would only slow me down.

The pavement was slippery under my shoes, and as I extended my strides, my foot slipped. I lost my balance, and I broke the fall with my hands, losing my bag in the process. Something sharp cut through my other palm, and I idly took notice that there was a broken bottle on the ground. I couldn't feel any pain, though. There was only fear, and a voice inside me that told me to _run, run, run._ Obeying the voice, I pushed myself up, forcing my trembling legs to cooperate.

The street was getting closer, and I risked a glance over my shoulder. Was it only wishful thinking, or was he beginning to drop behind? Would I manage to outrun him?

My breaths were coming so fast that they began to sound like sobs. My lungs started to burn as I quickened my strides, and I looked over my shoulder again, noticing I'd managed to put more distance between us. I didn't slow down, though – every cell in my body refused to believe the chase was over. I turned to look ahead of me again, just as I felt myself crashing into something – or someone. The impact almost sent me to the ground, but a pair of strong arms wrapped around me, steadying me and keeping me on my feet.

"What the–? Whoa, easy there. Are you alright?"

I vaguely comprehended that I'd reached the street, vaguely comprehended that I was looking up into someone's face. Eyes of deep, stormy blue found mine; recognition flared up in their depths.

Something like relief flooded through me, like my body was trying to assure me I was safe now. My mind still refused to believe it. Half-sobbing, half-gasping, I kept staring at the kind, familiar face, as if trying to force myself to realize I was here. That I was fine.

"Is everything alright, Miss? Has something happened?" he asked me, his face edged with concern.

It took a while before his familiar, smooth voice penetrated into my consciousness. I heard myself answer, felt my lips forming words.

"There was someone...I think...there was a man...he was following me..." I was still out of breath, but apparently, he understood something about my fragmented sentence.

"Where?"

I whirled around to face the alley, just as my pursuer turned the corner at the other end, disappearing from sight.

I vaguely realized the man I had ran into was still holding me steady, like he wasn't quite sure if I could stand on my own. I saw indecision in his eyes, hesitation.

"I'll try to follow him," he offered, but I shook my head. I didn't know why, exactly. After a short moment, he reached the same conclusion as I had – whoever it was who had been chasing after me would be too far away now. There was no chance we – or he – could find him.

"What happened?" I heard the man ask.

I shook my head, trying to calm down. My heart was still pounding like crazy, and I realized I was trembling from head to toe. The adrenaline was quickly wearing off, making me feel like I had been run over by a train.

"I was on my way home from work," I began to explain. It annoyed me how breathless and feeble I sounded. "I could've taken a cab, I guess, but I wanted to walk. It began to rain, and I took a shortcut – I must've taken a wrong turn at some point. And then, I suddenly noticed there was someone following me. I thought maybe he was just on his way home or something, but after a while, he began to run, trying to catch up with me."

"Did you see his face?"

I shook my head. "No, he was too far away."

The man nodded. His blond hair was completely wet, and that was when I realized it was still raining like crazy; I'd barely noticed it. The hood had slipped off my head at some point, and I felt cold raindrops sneaking under my collar, wetting my shirt. I shivered.

The man's next words managed to surprise me.

"You've hurt yourself."

Feeling slightly out of my body, I tried to comprehend what he was talking about. I didn't understand, until a sudden stabbing pain made itself known in my palm. Then, I remembered; I had fallen and dropped my bag, and there had been a broken bottle on the ground.

Something warm was trickling down my fingers. Blood usually made me queasy, but now, I was too disoriented to feel queasy. To feel anything but dizzying relief.

I felt the man taking my hand in his own, examining my palm – his hands were pleasantly warm.

"They don't seem too deep," I heard him murmur. "Some of these cuts might need stitches, though. I can't be sure, until I see your hand in better light. How did this happen?"

"I tripped," I heard myself explain. "There was a broken bottle on the ground. Just my luck."

The man gave me a wry smile before beginning to examine my hand again. He hesitated.

"These need to be cleaned and tended to," he said. "I could call you a cab, or I could get my car and drive you to the hospital myself. What would you prefer?"

I suddenly remembered my bag. If the man who had followed me had taken it...

Bye-bye wallet and cell phone. Bye-bye keys.

"What is it?" the man asked, noticing my expression.

"My bag," I explained. "I lost it when I fell."

He nodded, digging out a neatly folded tissue from his pocket. He pressed it against my bleeding palm gently. "Add some pressure here, but not too much – there might be glass in the cuts. Wait here – I'll be right back."

He was gone before I managed to utter a word. I held the tissue against my palm and watched him make his way down the alley. He walked about twenty yards before he stopped and reached down to pick something up from the ground; my bag. Relief flooded through me as I realized that the creep who had followed me hadn't taken it.

The blond man came back to me.

"Is my wallet still there? And my cell phone?" I asked, still pressing the tissue to my palm. My hands were trembling.

He hesitated – maybe he was surprised I had asked him to go through my bag. I couldn't blame him. I didn't know him, after all. He opened the zipper and looked inside.

"It's looks like you're in luck today," he murmured, giving me a reassuring smile.

I let out a relieved breath. "That's odd. Why didn't he take it, after I'd dropped it? That doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe he didn't see you drop it," he suggested as he gave me the bag. I slid it on my shoulder, gingerly trying to make a fist with my injured hand. "Or maybe he didn't want to risk it, after he saw he was about to get more company."

"Yeah, maybe." I knew what he had left unsaid. Maybe the creep who had been chasing me hadn't been after my bag, as simple as that.

The man was scouting the street, apparently trying to spot a cab. After a moment, he turned to me again, hesitating.

"I don't live that far away from here," he said, contemplating. "I can take a better look at your hand if you want – I'm a doctor. I have to make sure there's no glass in the cuts. Or I could drive you to the hospital, like I suggested earlier. What would you prefer?"

Slightly stunned, I tried to think of something to say. I only had one thought in my mind: I hated hospitals. I'd spent half of my life there. Hospitals meant blood and vomit and needles and syringes and stitches. "Uh...did you say the cuts aren't very deep?"

He nodded.

"And they might not need stitches?"

"Maybe not, but I need to see them in better light to know for sure."

The thought of stitches made me seriously consider his first suggestion. I had to remind myself, though, that I still didn't know this man, despite the fact that he had helped me and had saved me from trouble twice now. Getting myself a cab sounded like a lot safer option. When I really thought about it, I had no reason to trust him – this was only the second time I'd met him. But if I was completely honest with myself, something about him made me feel...I didn't know. Like I was safe. It was crazy.

Maybe it was my fear of needles talking and running my brain.

I shook my head to clear it – for some reason, it felt foggy. "Uh...how far away do you live?"

"Just a few blocks from here."

I still hesitated. "I don't want to be a bother..."

"It's no bother," he assured me, smiling softly. Then, he inclined his head, gesturing for me to follow him. "Come. I'd hate it if you caught a cold."

Right. It was still raining. The August evening felt colder than normal, or maybe it was just me. Maybe I was going into shock or something.

As I fell into step beside him, he reached out to check my hand again. The tissue he had given me was now bright with blood, and he replaced it with a new one. I wondered if it was a habit of his to carry a pack of tissues with him.

"So," he began conversationally, giving me a brief smile, "How come you're walking home, when the weather is so terrible? Did your truck give you trouble again?"

"I took it to a shop yesterday," I explained. "I'll get it back on Monday. You were right – the battery was bad."

He nodded. "Well, I'm glad the truck didn't have any worse problems. I hope you two still have many miles ahead of you." Despite the situation, his warm, slightly sad smile made something inside me ache in a strange, pleasant way.

I chuckled quietly. "I hope so, too. It seems, though, that my truck has been giving me only bad luck lately." I raised my injured hand, and he gave a soft laugh. "Or maybe it's not the truck. I'm an incurable trouble magnet, you see. I always have been. It's funny, though, that this is the second time you've happened to appear when I'm in trouble."

He gave me another small smile. "Well, it was fortunate that I happened to be taking a walk."

I had to admit, it was a strange hour to be taking a walk, especially since it was raining like this. I shrugged inwardly – maybe it was just a habit of his.

"Well, I don't know what would've happened if I hadn't – quite literally – run into you tonight. Thank you, Doctor, uh..." I paused, realizing I still didn't know his name.

"Oh." He closed his eyes, like he was frustrated with himself. "I'm sorry about my poor manners. I'm Carlisle Cullen. And please, just call me Carlisle."

Carlisle...what a beautiful, strange name. "I'm Bella," I told him, giving him a smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Bella Swan."

He smiled brilliantly. "That's a pretty name. Suits its owner."

The raindrops beating against my cheeks felt suddenly colder. I hoped he didn't notice I was blushing like an idiot.

We kept talking idly about this and that, and before I even knew it, we were there. For some reason, I'd assumed he was living in an apartment building, but I suddenly found myself in a neighborhood with elegant, refined houses. I saw a familiar black SUV parked in the driveway of a large, white house. That was where the blond man – Carlisle – was leading me. There were no lights on inside.

I hesitated as he led me to the porch and began to unlock the door. "I hope no one wakes up because of me. I mean, I'm sure your wife..." I trailed off, not really knowing what I wanted to say.

A very strange look passed in Carlisle's blue eyes. It was gone almost immediately, though, and he gave me a brief smile.

"I live alone," he stated. "Don't worry about waking anyone up." He held the door open for me, and I stepped inside, realizing I was unreasonably pleased to find out he didn't have a wife. I wondered about the strange look in his eyes, though, when I'd asked about it, but I soon forgot about it as I stepped inside.

The place was spacious...and beautiful. Carlisle followed me inside after closing the door, and as he turned on some lights, I spotted several elegant paintings adorning the white walls. He led me to a large, modern kitchen, again turning on some lights, and then, he pulled up a chair for me. My eyes took in the space – the walls were ivory white in here as well – and I thought to myself that the house was slightly intimidating. I wondered if he was rich. He had to be.

"Have a seat," he told me. "I'll be right back."

I did as he said, hanging my bag on the chair and watching him as he went back to the hallway where we'd just come from.

He returned a short moment later. He had removed his coat; the pale blue dress shirt he wore made the blue of his eyes stand out even more, and I tried not to stare. Instead, I eyed warily the huge first-aid kit he had in his hand, and that was why I almost didn't notice he was also holding a blanket.

"Why don't you take off your coat," he suggested, placing the first-aid kit on the table next to me. "It must be drenched. You'll be more comfortable without it."

Remembering what he had said about catching a cold, I rose from the chair and began to shrug off the coat. I almost felt startled as warm fingers touched mine briefly. He had come over to help me, and I wondered idly when the last time was that a man had helped me to take off my coat. He hung it over the back of a nearby chair to dry, and then, he took the blanket he had brought with him and spread it over my shoulders.

"How are you doing, Bella?" Carlisle asked me and gave me a close look, a small frown crinkling his brow. "Do you feel dizzy, sick, cold...?" He was probably trying to determine if I was going into shock or something.

I shook my head, as I sat down again, hesitating. "Just cold. And a little shaky, I guess."

He nodded. "That's understandable, considering what happened." He walked past me, touching my shoulder briefly in a reassuring manner, before he began to move around in the kitchen. I didn't see what he was doing, but water began to run, and then, I heard as he placed something on the stove behind me.

A moment later, he returned to me and pulled up a chair for himself, opening the first-aid kit and spreading some of its contents on the table. I slipped my injured hand out from under the blanket, shivering as his gentle fingers cradled mine. Man, his hands were warm.

He removed the tissue he had placed on top of the cuts a few minutes earlier, seeming pleased that the bleeding had almost stopped. I wondered if the cuts would leave scars – it seemed like the long, ugly scar on the inside of my arm was about to get company.

I saw Carlisle give the scar in question a long look, but he didn't ask anything. I focused on his face as he began to clean the cuts with antiseptic; I didn't want to see if there was blood or how much damage the broken bottle had done. Passing out or throwing up were things I definitely wanted to skip.

I studied him carefully. His moist, golden hair. The refined angles of his face. His eyes, blue like cornflowers. I found myself wondering about his age. His features were smooth, except for the very fine lines at the corners of his eyes.

He looked extremely tired – I hadn't noticed it before. He had dark circles under his eyes, like he was in serious need of sleep. I wondered if he suffered from insomnia – why else would he look so...exhausted? But then again, he'd told me he was a doctor. And doctors were tired. Right?

For some reason, I began to feel something like disappointment. Now that I had seen him up close, I estimated that he must be at least forty, maybe older. That meant I must have been at least fifteen years his junior. It was like there was suddenly a chasm between us, something that made him unattainable.

I told myself it didn't matter – that I shouldn't feel this disappointed. I had no reason to.

As he examined my palm carefully, apparently trying to determine if there was glass in the cuts, I tried to distract myself from my thoughts by talking.

"So, you're a doctor," I stated, when I couldn't think of anything more creative to say.

Carlisle gave me a brief smile before focusing on my hand again. "Actually, I may have been slightly dishonest with you about that. I used to work as a doctor, yes...but I haven't practiced for years."

"What do you do, then?"

"I'm a professor of English Literature at the university."

"Oh. How long have you been working there?"

Something in his eyes shifted for a small moment. "A few years," he answered, his voice quieter now. "I took on teaching soon after I stopped practicing medicine."

"Why did you stop?" I knew it was a personal question – maybe a little too personal. But I found myself wondering about the strange look in his eyes. I also had this strong urge to learn more about him – I couldn't explain it.

My question didn't seem to offend him, but I noticed he didn't answer right away.

"It wasn't the right field for me," he eventually answered, his voice suddenly detached. "And I find great pleasure in teaching and lecturing."

For some reason, I got this feeling, like that wasn't the whole truth, but I didn't want to pry any more than I already had. It seemed odd, though, that he would say medicine wasn't the right field for him. There was something special about the careful way he tended to my hand. He was gentle, quick and precise, and something told me he had once been a very good doctor. Why had he changed his field, then?

He examined my hand again carefully, after wiping the cuts with more antiseptic.

"Is your tetanus shot up to date?" he asked me.

I nodded.

"Well, good news, then. I don't see any glass, and the cuts are not too deep. They won't need stitches." He reached out to take something from the table – butterfly bandages. I let out a relieved breath. When he gave me a curious look, I decided to explain.

"I'm not good with needles or blood, so those are really good news. And I'm not fond of hospitals, either. I've spent too much time in them."

"How come?"

I shrugged, trying to keep my hand steady, as he put the bandages in place. He apologized when I hissed.

"I'm a trouble magnet, like I earlier said," I answered, when he was done with the bandages. "It's a synonym for clumsy and unlucky. I'm more accident-prone than some children. Trouble finds me wherever I go. Well, I'm sure you've noticed. First, my truck, and now this."

He chuckled quietly. Then, he rose from his seat and disappeared behind me again. I heard him move about, and then I thought I heard him pour something into a mug.

"That life of yours sounds quite challenging," he stated, amused. "What kind of work do you do?"

"I'm a waitress at a café."

He came back and sat down again. I told him the name of the place, and he nodded.

"I think I've stopped by there once or twice," he murmured. "Not in a while, though." He began to wrap some gauze around my hand, securing it with medical tape. "Do you have to work tomorrow?"

I shook my head. "My next shift is on Monday."

He nodded. "Well, that's good. I think your hand will be better by then. Make sure to keep the cuts dry, though. You might have to wear a plastic glove while you work, but it depends on how much you're going to use your hand – and how well the cuts will heal. Clean them with antiseptic once or twice a day. They aren't deep, so they should scab and heal fairly quickly."

I nodded and thanked him quietly. He gave me yet another dazzling smile before rising from the chair again. When I was about to do the same, he held up a hand and told me to stay where I was. He returned a moment later, carrying a steaming mug.

"I made you some tea to warm you up. I don't know if you prefer coffee, but I have a feeling caffeine might not be good for you after the adrenaline rush you just went through."

"Oh, you didn't have to do this for me," I said, but as he offered me the mug, I had no choice but to take it. "You've done too much for me as it is. Thank you."

He shook his head and smiled, before disappearing from my sight again. When he came back a few seconds later, I saw that he had poured tea for himself as well. He placed his own mug on the table, putting the supplies neatly back into the first-aid kit, and then he sat down, running his fingers through his still-moist hair and giving me yet another close look.

I took a careful sip of my tea; it was really sweet.

"I put some honey in it," he explained. "I'll be more at ease, when I know you have some sugar in you. You still look a little pale. Do you feel any better?"

I nodded, trying _not_ to think about how terrible I looked. My hair was wet, and I probably resembled a drowned rat.

He, on the other hand...wet hair suited him perfectly.

 _Stop it._

I cleared my throat quietly, giving him a smile. "I feel fine. A little surreal, maybe."

Carlisle nodded. "I understand. I'm sure you got quite a scare tonight."

"Thanks again for being in the right place at the right time."

He smiled. "It's no problem, Bella. I'm glad you weren't hurt worse than you were." He paused, hesitating. "Whoever it was who was following you...you said you couldn't see his face?"

I thought about the panic-filled moments in the alley. "There wasn't enough light, and he was too far away. At first, I wasn't even sure if he was following me. I kept telling myself that, maybe he was heading home, just like I was. But then, I noticed he wasn't dropping behind. After a while, I began to walk faster, and I noticed he tried to match my pace. And then, he started to run." I shivered if I even thought about it. "I'm never walking home alone again. At least not without my pepper spray."

Carlisle gave me a sympathetic look. Man, his eyes were blue. I suddenly realized I didn't want to blink whenever he was looking at me like that.

"You should consider reporting this," he suggested carefully, "even if you don't have any description to give."

"Yeah, probably. Charlie – I mean, my dad – he'd want me to. He's a cop himself, so..." I let out a quiet sigh, knowing how Charlie would react if he knew I'd walked home all alone when it was so late. Good thing he couldn't ground me anymore. "I could probably go to the police station in the morning. Maybe I'm supposed to do it right away, but..." I trailed off, suddenly exhausted.

"Do you have anyone who could drive you there tomorrow?" Carlisle asked. "If your truck is in the shop..."

I nodded, thinking Rosalie might give me a ride. After she had blown a gasket, of course.

We finished our tea, and I tried to ignore the dull, stabbing pain in my palm. After inquiring one more time if I was feeling well, Carlisle offered to drive me home.

"Oh, I can take a cab," I said, slightly embarrassed that he had gone through so much trouble for me.

"I'll be much more at ease if I get to make sure myself that you get home safely. I'm sure you've had enough drama for one night."

His words made me feel oddly warm. I chuckled at his last sentence and took a glance at the clock on the wall. My eyes widened in shock when I saw it was well past ten.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was so late," I apologized, quickly getting up and placing my empty mug on the table. I put the blanket on the back of the chair and hastily grabbed my coat. "You know, I've been too much of a bother as it is. Seriously. I can't let you drive me home after all you've done for me. I'm keeping you up."

Carlisle shook his head, and a strange look passed in his eyes again. "I'm a poor sleeper, and I'd be awake, nonetheless. That's actually why I was taking a walk, when I bumped into you."

"Oh." I frowned. That answered one question – I'd earlier wondered why he looked so tired. I gave him a curious smile. "Do you often take night walks...in the rain?"

He smiled, and I could instantly see that there was something sad about that smile. "Well, not every night," he answered, "And especially not in the rain. But every now and then, I feel like going for a walk when it's late, and there are less people on the streets. I find it...well, not relaxing, but...soothing, perhaps."

I wondered about that, but I didn't ask. The sudden sadness disappeared from him as he got up, collecting our mugs and carrying them to the sink. I suddenly found myself wondering why he was living in such a big house all by himself. Was he lonely? Was that the reason behind the sadness in his smile? Did loneliness keep him awake at night?

Damn. I had to leave, before I started to ask too many personal questions again.

"Thank you for the tea," I told him, taking my bag, "And for everything else as well. You've done so much for me, and I can't take advantage of your hospitality any more than I already have. I can get myself a cab."

"Is there any way I could change your mind?" he asked, meeting my gaze. "Truly, Bella, I'd be more than happy to drive you myself. It's Friday night, and getting a cab might take longer than normal. I'm sure you must be tired. Where do you live?"

I told him my address. He seemed to be familiar with the area.

"It's not far from here," he stated, giving me a smile that made my knees go weak. He saw I was about to relent, and he threw me another smile that made him look a lot younger than he probably was. "I have a good heater in my car," he added, saying it like my decision depended on this detail.

I gave a soft laugh. "Well, I suppose that settles it. Since I can blow-dry my hair _and_ get home..."

Carlisle laughed as well, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter. I followed him outside to his car, and I felt a little stunned as he hurried to open the passenger door for me. Gentlemen did exist, after all.

He had been honest about the heater. As we headed to my apartment, it didn't take long until pleasantly warm air began to fill the car. We talked idly about this and that, keeping the conversation light, and I guessed he was trying to take my mind off the things that had occurred earlier tonight. I realized, though, that despite everything terrible that had happened, I suddenly found myself...well, something like pleased or glad I'd bumped into this man again. There was something about him that made me want to learn more about him. I knew his name now – that was a start.

I knew I had to accept, though, that this was probably the last time I would see him. The last time I'd be in his company. He had seen someone who needed help, and now, he had done his part. And no matter how intriguing I found him, it didn't matter. We had nothing in common. I would bet we had more differences than similarities, and age was just one of those differences. He was probably old enough to be my father – I shouldn't have been attracted to him.

But I was.

"Do you live alone?" Carlisle asked as he stopped the car in the parking lot of my building. "Do you have anyone who could spend the night with you? Is there a friend you could call, perhaps?"

I told myself that, as a doctor – or as an ex-doctor – it was completely normal that he was worried. This wasn't a sneaky way to try to find out if I had a boyfriend – I was sure of it.

"I live alone, but I have a friend I can call if I feel like it."

"Does your hand hurt?"

I tried to make a fist and stopped immediately, as I realized it wasn't wise. "It's not too bad," I answered, ignoring the discomfort.

I saw him nod, and it bothered me a bit that I could no longer see his blue eyes; it was too dark in the car. "You might have to change the dressing tomorrow. Keep an eye out for signs of infection. If the cuts begin to swell, if you develop a fever, or if your hand begins to hurt more than you can tolerate, you should go to a doctor as soon as possible."

"Will do. Thanks again."

I was feeling unreasonably sad as I grabbed the door handle and prepared to get out of the car.

Suddenly, I heard him draw in a quick breath, as if to say something. I literally _felt_ his hesitation. After a moment, he reached up, and I heard a quiet click as he turned on the ceiling light of the car. He took a pen and a piece of paper from the center console, scribbling something down. The look he gave me was contemplative, hesitant. For some reason, he was gauging my expression carefully.

"Here's my number. If you have any questions, or if your hand begins to bother you, feel free to call me." A dry smile lit his face. "And if you develop a dangerous infection and lose the ability to use your hand, now you have a way to contact me if you want to sue me. Like I told you, I'm not a practicing doctor anymore. You'll win the case."

Laughing softly, I took the piece of paper from him. Overwhelmed by his sudden gesture, I thanked him again for everything he had done for me, before opening the door and getting out of the car. Before closing the door, I told him goodnight.

"Goodnight, Bella," he answered, smiling softly. "Sleep well."

Was I imagining it, or did he suddenly seem a little somber? A little sad? Like he had just realized something and comprehended that he simply had to submit to his fate? Was he unwilling to separate from me as well?

I couldn't spend much time analyzing his expression without looking like a weirdo. I closed the passenger door and walked away towards the one-floor apartment building. I couldn't help but notice that Carlisle didn't leave the parking lot until I had opened my apartment door – apparently, he wanted to make sure I got inside safely. I thought it was very sweet of him.

As I went inside and closed the door behind me, I suddenly realized something. I hadn't imagined the sadness in his eyes just now; I had caught glimpses of it throughout the night. It had been there all the time, in his eyes. In his smile. It could only mean one thing.

The sadness I'd seen in him just now had nothing to do with me. I was alone in finding it hard to leave these past moments behind.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Some of you maybe noticed while reading the alley scene that I mimicked the events that took place in Twilight, Chapter 8, Port Angeles._

 _"How are you doing, Bella?" is a quote from New Moon._


	3. Ignorance Is Bliss

_**"Never apologize for how you feel.**_

 _ **No one can control how they feel.**_

 _ **The sun doesn't apologize for being the sun.**_

 _ **The rain doesn't say sorry for falling.**_

 _ **Feelings just are."**_

\- Iain S. Thomas -

* * *

 **Ignorance Is Bliss**

"Alright," Rosalie said, as she steered the car from the parking lot of the police station onto the street. I'd just reported last night's experience to the police, despite the fact that I had no description or details to give of my pursuer. I felt better, though, now that I'd talked to someone about it. "Now that you've done your part, I need to hear everything about this charming Dr. Cullen. And I mean, _everything_. I want every detail. Did he kiss you? Did he hold your hand? Did he hug you? _Tell me_."

I rolled my eyes at her enthusiasm. When I'd called her this morning and told her what had happened to me, she'd been obviously horrified and dramatically told me I wasn't allowed to go outside alone, ever again. But she'd also been pleased that the mystery man who had helped me with my truck a few days ago was no longer a mystery man. In fact, she'd nearly choked on her morning coffee, when I'd told her I had gone to his house.

"Rose, it's not like it was a date. No, he didn't kiss me. _Obviously._ He did hold my hand, but only because he was taking care of the cuts. There was nothing more to it than that."

"He has to like you. He invited you to his _house_. Who asks a complete stranger to their _house_?"

"A thoughtful, considerate gentleman does that. It was raining like crazy, and I'd just managed to escape some creep who probably wanted to skin me alive after doing God knows what to me. And my hand was bleeding, and he saw I was cold and upset. And like I told you, he was worried, because he's a doctor. Or was one."

Rosalie frowned. "What do you mean? He's not a doctor anymore?"

"He said he quit practicing a few years ago."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. He said it wasn't the field for him. He's a professor at the university now."

"Professor of...?"

"English Literature."

She grinned. "Nice. A professor. That's kind of hot."

I rolled my eyes.

"So..." Rosalie gave me a glance before turning to look at the street again. "What did you two talk about?"

"Nothing, really. He kept asking how I was feeling – I think he expected me to throw up or pass out any moment. Or both. Maybe my face was all green. He also wanted to know what I do, but just because he was worried whether I can work with this hand."

"Oh, come on, Bella. I need _details_. You must've talked about something else. Something _personal_."

I blew out a breath. "Okay. I found out that sometimes, he likes to take a walk at night. Apparently, he finds it soothing. I thought it sounded...well, curious."

"Moonlight walks. I see. He's a romantic. Which means he's your perfect match. You're the one burying yourself in old, classic books all the time, after all."

I gave a soft laugh. "I wouldn't go that far just yet." I hesitated. "There were moments when I got this feeling like...like he was sad about something. I mean, he kept smiling a lot and all that, but there was this strange aura of... _something_ around him."

"Maybe he's lonely."

"I thought about that. His house was huge – anyone would feel lonely in there."

"Well, maybe his loneliness will soon be over," Rosalie murmured and gave me a wink.

I chuckled again, torn between amusement and frustration. "You know, I like it that you're so supportive, but...I just don't see anything happening. Sure, he's helped me twice when I've been in trouble, but that's only because he just happened to be there when I needed help. He didn't exactly have a choice but to interact with me. There's nothing more to it than that. He was being very polite and proper with me, and nothing else." I paused, sighing quietly. "And besides...I was right before. He's older than me. A lot older."

"How much older?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask his age." I rolled my eyes.

"What does it matter, anyway? Age? If I met Emmett now, and even if I found out that he'd just celebrated his fiftieth birthday, I'd ask him out, anyway. Love doesn't ask how old you are."

"Great. I've met the man twice, and you're already talking about love."

"Well, you're going to meet him again, aren't you? You asked for his number, right?" She turned to me and looked away from the street far longer than I would have liked. " _Isabella Marie Swan_. Tell me you asked for his number!"

"Watch where you're going!" I scolded her. "Do you want to go back to the police station? In handcuffs?"

She muttered something unintelligible under her breath, but she turned to look ahead of her again. She signaled and turned left, and I waited until we were safely in the parking lot of my apartment complex, before I began to speak again.

"No, I didn't ask for his number," I answered. Taking a deep breath, I tried to sound as casual as I could. "He gave it to me."

Rosalie hit the brakes so hard that I was thrown forward in my seat. I would have probably gone right through the windshield if I hadn't had my seatbelt on.

"And you're just _now_ telling me? He gave you his _number,_ and you just sit there and keep insisting nothing happened!"

"Calm down. Yes, he gave me his number, but it was clearly an afterthought. I could literally feel how uncertain he felt about it – it was like he was worried about giving me the wrong impression. And he only gave me his number in case I have something to ask about my hand. It was only his sense of responsibility that made him think about it – I got the feeling it would've bothered him, if he hadn't given me a way to reach him."

Rosalie had a knowing smile on her face. "Mmm-hmm. Just like it bothered _you,_ when you didn't ask his name when you saw him for the first time."

I sighed. "You know, sometimes, I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall."

"I know the feeling very well," she retorted. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to call him, silly? You're going to call him, right?"

"Rosalie," I moaned. "I swear, one of these days, I'm going to replace you with a golden retriever. A _male_ golden retriever. He'll have the same shiny hair as you do, but do you know what the difference will be? He'll be better company, and he'll actually _understand_ what I'm saying." I paused. "Oh, and he can also get my book whenever I ask him to."

Rosalie chuckled. "But he won't be able to talk back."

"Believe me, that's only a good thing."

She laughed, but then she sobered. "Seriously, though." She touched my arm, making me turn to her. Her expression was no longer teasing. "Bella, do you like this man? Just be honest, please."

I hesitated, searching for words. "I don't know, I mean, I've met him only twice. I don't even _know_ him."

"Of course you don't. What I'm asking is...how do you feel when you think about him?"

Again, I hesitated. Cornflower blue eyes kept invading my thoughts. "I don't know," I said again. "I feel all warm and...fluttery. Like there's an electrical charge on my skin. Or something."

"So, you're attracted to him. Why don't you allow yourself to admit that?"

" _Because_." I blew out a sigh. "Okay. Maybe I am attracted to him. But it doesn't change anything. Look, I didn't downplay anything I told you just now. I honestly don't believe he sees me that way. He was charming, yes, and very polite and considerate. And he was so kind to me. So gentle. But the point is, I'm sure he would've behaved like that in anyone's company. He just happened to be there when I needed help – there's nothing more to it than that. Really. And besides, what would a distinguished man of his age want from a young girl like me? We have nothing in common."

"You don't know that," Rosalie disagreed gently. "And you're not a _young girl_ , Bella. You're a grown woman. You turn twenty-five next month."

"And he'll probably turn forty-seven or something."

"You know, Emmett is almost ten years older than me. I've never been hung up on that. Why would you be? Or does the age thing really bother you that much? Does it gross you out or something? If this Dr. Cullen were ten or twenty years younger, would you consider calling him, then?"

I shook my head. "No, it's not that. Of course, his age doesn't _bother_ me. I don't care how much older he is. What I'm trying to say is that, his older age makes him more...unattainable. He's out of my league, as simple as that."

"Maybe he feels the same about you."

I stared at her, incredulous.

"Oh, come on, Bella. Have you _seen_ yourself? You're beautiful, you're smart – slightly inclined to pessimism, perhaps – but still, any guy would be thrilled to go out with you. I know what I'm talking about – I've seen you naked, you know."

I closed my eyes. "Don't remind me."

"Oh, come on. You have a body like a goddess. Have you seen how some of the customers look at you at the café? You look so innocent and sweet in that little red apron. It's easy to see what some men think, when you go to pour them more coffee."

"So, I should be happy that some men undress me in their minds? That's not nice. That's _disturbing_ , actually. No one should have to be worried about things like that."

Rosalie rolled her eyes and let out a strangled screech. "You don't _get_ it." She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. "Okay. Imagine that this Dr. Cullen comes to the café one day. Imagine yourself taking his order. Imagine yourself walking away from his table. He's sitting there and looking after you as you walk away. Now, imagine it's _him_ undressing you in his mind."

"Oh." I stared ahead of me. " _Oh_."

"Well? How does _that_ sound?"

I gave a soft chuckle. "Well, a girl can always dream, I guess."

"Yes, you can dream. But you can also pick up the effing phone and call him."

I raised my eyebrows. "Wow. You didn't say the f-word."

She sighed. "I'm trying to quit. My mom doesn't like it when I use bad words. She actually set up a swear jar. I'm always _this_ close to cussing at the salon when there are customers around, so..." She turned to look at me again. "Okay. Well? Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you here?"

"Alright. I get it. You want me to believe he's not out of my league, just because he's older than me. Maybe it's so, but still, it doesn't mean anything."

"You know, there's one way to find out if he actually likes you, or if he was just trying to be nice to you."

"Let me guess. I'll have to call him?"

"Exactly." She flashed me a brilliant smile and tossed her long curls over her shoulder. "I'm not saying you should dial his number and ask him out right away. You can be subtler than that. Just call him and ask him something about your hand. Ask him when it's okay to go swimming, for example. Or tell him the cuts are itching really badly, and you wanted to ask if it's normal. Maybe he'll ask you to come over, so he can see your hand for himself, or maybe he offers to come to you instead. He brought you home yesterday, right? He already knows where you live. That's perfect."

"I'll think ab–"

"And _then_ ," she cut me off, her blue-green eyes gleaming in a strange way.

"Oh, it wasn't over yet," I murmured to myself.

"…You'll have to try to start a more personal conversation. Talk about this and that at first, be casual, and at some point, ask him where he grew up, for instance. The important thing is that you talk about something _personal_. That won't be enough, though. Since he's older than you, it's likely he won't be the one to take the initiative. You said he was polite and considerate – as in a gentleman – so, he might be worried you'll think he's a creep or something, if he makes a move on you. Which means _you'll_ have to be the bold one and take the first step. When he's about to leave – or when you're about to leave – touch his arm or hand or something – "

"Or _something_?" I asked, giving a hysterical giggle.

"–and look him deep in the eyes, and don't say anything for a while. Just be quiet and stare at him until your eyes begin to water and you see right into his soul, damn it! Make sure you have his _full_ _attention_. And then, tell him quietly that it was really nice to see him again."

"And then?" I asked.

"And then...let him walk out. Or walk out yourself, depending on where you meet."

"That's it?" I frowned.

"I told you that you can be subtle about it. Subtle works the best. Sometimes, even with men. The important thing is that you say something that makes him think about you and see you in a different light. After that, the ball is in his court. He'll either ignore your words and not react, or if he's interested in you, he either contacts you or comes to see you at the café. He'll try to be all casual, and he'll probably say he was just passing by and suddenly had a craving for coffee. And then, you two live happily ever after."

"Wow. You've got it all worked out, don't you?"

"Bella. I've done this a lot, as you know. It took me a while until I found Emmett, after all. I know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I guess you do," I admitted, leaning my head against the headrest. "What I don't get is why you're suddenly so obsessed with this whole thing."

"Because I know you, Bella."

Her words made me give her a surprised glance.

"You've been all gloomy and blue ever since what happened with James. But I know that even though he hurt you very badly, he didn't manage to destroy your trust in other people. I also know you'll be fine if you have to spend the rest of your life all by yourself. I know you don't _need_ anyone. You've always looked after yourself, and not just yourself, but you've also taken care of those around you. Like your mom, for instance. You have the ability to love with all your heart. Look at _us_. I drive you crazy sometimes, but still, you put up with me. You're always all in, no matter what the situation. You're so fearless. You always have been. Sometimes, I envy you for that."

I listened to her outburst without a word, at first not knowing what to say. "I've never seen myself that way before," I admitted. "Thank you, I guess? But I'd never say I 'put up with you.' You're my best friend."

She took my hand. "And you're mine. That's why I ask you to think about what I said. I know you're fine on your own, but if you really like this man, I suggest you do something about it. If you don't, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life. You're right – you've only met him twice, and you don't know a thing about him. But despite that, you already seem so..." She shook her head, searching for words, "Well, _taken_ with him. I can't describe it any other way. He clearly intrigues you."

"He does, but I don't know why, exactly."

"And you don't have to know why. Just do _something_. Call him. Please, Bella. Don't kill the romantic in me."

I chuckled softly, unbuckling my seatbelt and opening the passenger door.

"Alright," I sighed as I got out. "I promise to think about it. Scout's honor."

* * *

I got my truck back on Monday. The mechanic gave me a weird look when I pressed a soft kiss on its rusty surface and told the truck I'd missed it. Maybe the guy had underestimated my love for the ancient vehicle. Or maybe he agreed with my mom and thought it belonged in a museum.

My hand was healing well. After a few days, I no longer had to wrap gauze around it, but I covered the biggest cuts with band-aids. If I had to get my hands wet at the café, I took Dr. Cullen's – or Carlisle's – advice and used a glove on my injured hand.

I found myself thinking about him often. I'd promised to consider Rosalie's suggestion to call him, and by the end of the week, I'd made up my mind. I would talk to her about it when I saw her on Saturday. Emmett would be gone for the weekend; Rosalie said he and his friends would be gone for their annual "man-trip" to Las Vegas. They did it every year. Therefore, Rosalie had decided it was only appropriate that we had a proper girls' night out. She had made reservations at our favorite restaurant.

On Saturfay, I drove to her and Emmett's apartment late in the afternoon to spend some quality time with her before we'd go out.

"Okay," I sighed as we were getting dressed. "I'll call Carlisle. Tomorrow. But only if you'll be there, talking me out of my panic attack."

Rosalie laughed. "I'm more than pleased about your decision, obviously. But you should be alone when you call him – that way, you'll be able to be yourself. Trust me, you don't want me there. While you're talking to him, you don't want to keep analyzing my facial expressions and wondering if you said something right or wrong. It'll only confuse you more."

"Yeah, maybe you're right." I drew in a deep breath. "Fine. I'll call him. Tomorrow. Alone."

"Fantastic."

I began to feel better after my decision. Nervous, but better. Excited, even. Rosalie was right – I liked this man. I wanted to know more about him. If I didn't at least try to do something about it, I'd regret it.

"By the way, aren't you ever worried Emmett's going to get too drunk and do something stupid while he's gone?" I asked Rosalie. She was just zipping up my dress, and I held my hair out of the way, deciding to leave it as it was. I'd blow-dried it this morning, and it was nice and straight. It would have been nice to curl it, but curls never stayed in my hair.

"I _know_ he's going to get drunk," Rosalie answered in a dry manner. "And I _know_ he's going to do something that'll count as stupid in one way or another. It's _Emmett_. I've kind of accepted it." She took a step back and scrutinized me.

"Do I pass?" I asked, glancing down at myself. I was wearing a knee-length halter neck dress – it was the prettiest thing I owned. I didn't wear it often. Dressing up wasn't my thing.

"Of course you pass. Black suits you." She turned to the mirror and continued to curl her golden hair, and when she was done with that, she added some mascara and lipstick – not that she needed those. She was stunning, even without makeup. I let her dab some lip gloss on my lips, but when she approached me with a tube of mascara and an eyeshadow palette, I held up my hand.

"Some other time. I promise."

She rolled her eyes in disappointment but accepted my words– she knew I didn't like using makeup. One reason was that I was always too lazy to wash it off – she'd lectured me about it more times than I could count, and she had also given me a thorough facial after every lecture. Rosalie brought work home.

Returning to the original topic, I gave her a curious glance. "Aren't you ever worried Emmett is going to get so drunk and so stupid that he wakes up in someone else's bed?"

"Nope," she grinned. "He's a worse liar than you are. He knows I can just smell it if he has bad news to tell me. And besides, I trust him. Oh, and this might have some impact on matters as well." She walked to her closet and pulled out a garment that...well, didn't even count as a garment. I saw a flash of black silk and lace – _see-through lace_ _–_ and all I could do was stare. "I showed him _this_ right before his friends picked him up. Believe me, he's not going to even glance at another woman this weekend. His brain is filled with mental images of me wearing nothing but _this_."

"What _is_ that?" I asked, both awed and horrified. "Where do you get those things?"

"Do you want one? We can go shopping next week if you want. I'll help you pick something."

"I…" I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. "I…I don't know. Let me get over this sight first. Or at least give me time to get used to the thought of wearing something like that." I blinked and turned away from the piece of lingerie, like it was brighter than the sun. Rosalie chuckled at my reaction.

We took her car – my truck's clutch pedal was a nightmare, even without heels. Rosalie was driving, and again, it was because of heels. She had somehow managed to convince me to wear these black, two-inch pumps, and even those were too high for me. Even ballerina flats made me stumble, after all. Rosalie, on the other hand, could do anything in heels. She could run in them and drive in them... hell, she could probably go rock climbing in them.

There was a good reason why the restaurant we went to was our favorite. It was peaceful and atmospheric, and the service was always great and the food delicious. It didn't disappoint us this time, either. Like always, we had a great time, but just as we were about to begin our dessert, the night took an unexpected turn.

I wished I had seen it coming – if I had, I would have chosen not to live those moments. Sometimes, ignorance truly was bliss. Sometimes, it was just better not to know some things. It helped to keep some dreams alive, after all.

Rosalie was just talking about the plans she and her mom had for the salon – they were considering expanding it and hiring two more people to work there. I was about to say something about my mom's friend who had expanded her own similar business a couple of years ago, and that was when I happened to give an idle glance around the full restaurant.

And that was when I saw _him_. Golden, swept-back hair. Eyes like the stormy sea, like fields full of cornflowers. A smile that was always slightly sad. Dr. Cullen. Carlisle.

And he wasn't alone.

I saw him pull out a chair for a beautiful, tall woman with long, blonde hair. She smiled brightly at him as he helped her into her seat. The woman was about mid-thirties, and her eyes were a light shade of hazel. They were like two suns – I could see that, even though they were a few tables away. She was...stunning. I saw Carlisle press a soft kiss on her hand, before taking a seat himself. He wasn't facing this way, but I knew it would only take an accidental sideways glance for him to see me.

"Shit," I hissed, suddenly hoping I could fold down like a telescope. I didn't cuss that often, but when I did, I had a good reason for it.

Rosalie knew this as well. "What is it?" she asked, obviously wondering why I was suddenly trying to hide. She probably saw I was doing everything I could to keep myself from crawling under the table.

I leaned sideways to look over her left shoulder, relieved when I noticed Carlisle was still focused on the woman. Or well, I wasn't relieved, perhaps. More like pissed off at the universe.

"He's _here_ ," I whispered to Rosalie. I didn't need to explain who I was talking about.

" _Really_? What are the chances?" She began to peer around her. "Where is he?"

I gave a nod towards the direction of their table. Rosalie spotted him instantly.

"Oh. Oh... _Oh_. Oh, wow. Well, now I know why you're so interested in him. He's...hot. Man, his face is like a damn sculpture. No, scratch that. The whole damn _man_ is like a sculpture!"

"Shh! And don't stare at him," I begged. "He'll notice us. Did you, on the other hand, notice he's not alone?"

Rosalie was still staring at him. "Maybe she's his sister."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't think so. And you almost made me _call_ him. I can't believe this. Do you now see what would've happened if I'd called him?"

"The world would've exploded?" she suggested sardonically. "Come on, Bella. You don't even know who she is. Maybe they're colleagues or something. Do you always have to think about the worst-case scenario?"

" _Yes_. Look at them _now_. They're not colleagues!"

The woman was leaning over the table to kiss him. On the mouth. It wasn't a short kiss, either. I closed my eyes and leaned my face into my palms. I knew my reaction to seeing him with someone else was unreasonably strong. I didn't even know the man. I'd barely had two conversations with him.

Why was I feeling so disappointed, then? Like someone had poured ice water on me?

"Is there any way we can leave without him noticing us?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. We'd have to walk past their table in order to get out – and we'd have to ask for the check first, of course. Great. More attention our way.

"So, he's dating someone," Rosalie brushed it off, her tone appeasing. "I wouldn't worry about it. They might not be exclusive."

"So what?" I asked. "I don't date men who date other women. That's just...sad."

"No, that's an inevitable part of the dating culture nowadays. Sorry. Women do it, too. I've double booked myself in the past. You can't always put all your eggs in one basket. I know you're a romantic, Bella, but this is how dating sometimes works."

I kept my eyes closed. "He must have a thing for blondes."

"You don't know that."

"Are they still kissing?"

"No. And you know, you probably think I'm just trying to make you feel better by saying this, but I think it was _her_ who kissed _him_ – he didn't initiate it."

"Well, he wasn't exactly resisting, either."

Rosalie couldn't say anything to that. A moment passed, as I tried to get a hold of my emotions and kept repeating to myself that I had no reason to get jealous over a man I didn't even know. He had the right to kiss anyone he liked.

But I was allowed to feel disappointed, right? I'd suppose my decision to call him tomorrow made this definitely even harder to handle, especially because it had taken so long for me to pluck up the courage to actually _come_ to that decision.

"She's getting up," Rosalie whispered, causing me to drag my eyes open. "Probably going to the ladies' room."

I raised my gaze just in time to see the blonde beauty heading towards the direction of the restrooms. Man, she had long legs. And a short dress.

"He's not looking at her," Rosalie murmured.

"So what?" I stared at my untouched chocolate mousse.

"Men usually watch as their date walks away – if they like their date, that is."

"Maybe he's just lost in his thoughts. It happens."

"Not when they're on a date with a woman they really like. Oh."

"What?"

"He's looking around him. He's...wait. He's..." she paused. "Yeah. He saw you."

I closed my eyes again, wishing the floor would swallow me up. "Don't look at him," I begged her. "I'll just pretend I haven't noticed him."

"Good luck with that. He's coming over."

" _What_?" I tore my eyes open and tried to put a normal expression on my face. There was no need to let him know about the burning disappointment inside me. Taking a deep breath, I raised my gaze from the table and tried to prepare myself for what was to come.

He was wearing a suit. Why, why, why did he have to wear a suit and look like that? His hair was just as golden, his eyes just as blue as I remembered. So blue. Like cornflowers. Like ocean's waters.

Damn.

Without a reason, I felt suddenly exhausted. Even my heart seemed tired. I watched him as he approached us, and I didn't even bother to act surprised. He gave me a polite smile as he reached our table, hesitating before starting to speak. I saw him give Rosalie a brief glance, but then, his focus was on me again.

"It's a small world," he said conversationally. His voice was just as deep and smooth as I remembered.

I nodded, forcing a smile on my lips. "Yeah, it seems like it."

"I'm sorry to disturb your evening, but I saw you over here and...and I wanted to come and ask how you were. Is your hand better?"

I nodded again, trying to find my voice. "Yeah. Much better." I showed him my palm quickly; I still covered some of the cuts with band-aids.

"No signs of infection?"

I shook my head. "No. The cuts have healed almost completely. Thank you again for helping me." I drew in a shallow breath and looked from him to Rosalie. "Uh...Rosalie, this is Dr. Cullen. Dr. Cullen, this is my friend, Rosalie Hale."

Rosalie reached out to shake his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Cullen. I've heard _much_ about you."

What was she _doing_? I gave her leg a small kick under the table.

Carlisle gave a soft laugh at her words, giving me a look I couldn't quite read. "Really?"

" _Really_ ," Rosalie answered, smiling brightly. "Among other things, I've heard you've saved Bella from trouble twice now."

"Well, I'm glad I was able to help," Carlisle answered amiably. His eyes found mine again. "Did you get your truck back?"

I nodded. "They replaced the battery. It's been running great ever since."

"I'm pleased to hear that. I noticed you're very fond of it."

I nodded and managed to give him something like a smile, but all that fit into my head right now was the blonde deity who had disappeared into the ladies' room a moment ago.

Who was on her way back to the table now.

Carlisle saw her come back as well. Before he left, he turned to me and Rosalie once more. "Well, I hope you have a pleasant evening."

I nodded. "You, too." I actually managed to sound like I meant it.

"Bella..." I gave him a surprised look, as he suddenly reached out to touch my shoulder. The touch of his warm fingers on my bare skin sent shivers down my spine. "It was nice to see you again."

I was so caught off guard by his words and his warm touch that it was a while before I could make myself react. It took a moment too long for me to gather myself, though, because by the time I began to feel like I was back in my body, he had already turned to leave and was on his way back to his table.

Rosalie's gaze was like a physical touch. I looked at her, not knowing what to say. What to feel.

It seemed like at least Rosalie knew what to feel. For some reason, she was grinning like an idiot.

"I saw that," she whispered. "Don't tell me he doesn't like you."

"He was just being friendly." My voice was quiet and faint; I felt like all my energy was drained out of me. "Can we go home?"

Maybe Rosalie saw how confused I was. For once, she didn't argue or try to change my mind. Nodding, she asked for the check.

A few moments later, when we prepared to leave, I refused to look at _their_ table. I refused to think about his blue eyes and his golden, swept-back hair, refused to hope that his gaze was following me as I left the restaurant with Rosalie.

But no matter how much I tried to deny it...I did hope.


	4. Those Who Don't Search

_**"Everybody has a chapter they don't read out loud."**_

\- Unknown -

* * *

 **Those Who Don't Search**

Sighing quietly, I took a rag and began to wipe the counter, ignoring the fact that it was already perfectly clean and spotless. It was a slow Thursday afternoon at the café; most people were still at work, but I knew some of the tables would be full in an hour or two. I glanced at the elderly man who was sitting at the table in the far corner of the café, and I decided to go and check if his coffee cup was empty.

Taking a fresh pot from the machine, I walked across the café, offering the man a refill. I noticed his eyes were blue – not blue like cornflowers, but pale blue, like the summer sky. They didn't have the same effect on me as _his_ eyes did.

 _Stop thinking about him._

I hadn't called him on Sunday like I'd earlier planned. Rosalie had tried to persuade me otherwise, but I'd made up my mind. He – I didn't want to think about his unusual, beautiful name – was clearly involved with someone. Maybe some were able to date multiple persons at the same time – or date people who dated multiple people at the same time – and be okay with it, but I wasn't that person.

He...the blond man with his sad smile and blue eyes, wasn't mine to pursue.

Maybe he never had been.

I walked back to the counter, rounding it and sliding the pot back into the machine. Rubbing my temples, I suddenly felt the familiar stirrings of a headache, and I had to blink to clear my vision. I'd been suffering from migraines since childhood, and I'd learned to recognize the early symptoms. I made a quick trip to the backroom and popped two pills into my mouth, downing them with a swig of water; taking medication early enough was the only way to stop the episode.

I made my way out of the backroom and vigorously continued to wipe the already spotless counter. I heard the door of the café open, but I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't lift my gaze right away. When I did realize someone had come in, I aborted my task and raised my eyes from the countertop, preparing to greet the incoming customer.

But as I lifted my gaze, I felt like all my strength left me. My eyes met with blue ones. Not pale blue, like the summer sky...but deep blue, like stormy seas. Like fields full of cornflowers.

I didn't say anything to him as he approached the counter – thank goodness the manager wasn't here, I'd have gotten some negative critique about that – and I just stared at him as he walked up to me. There was too much going on inside my head right then, and I tried to decide how to react, tried to understand why he was suddenly here. Seattle was the promised land of coffee, and I knew this wasn't the only café in this part of the city. There was another café across the street, actually, right next to a popular pub.

Why had he chosen to come here, then? Why _here_?

He stopped at the counter and smiled that sad smile of his. "Has that rag offended you?" he asked. "Or is it the counter you're displeased with?"

I blinked – that was not something I'd expected him to say. Apparently, he felt the need to explain, making me realize I had been quiet for a really long time.

"You were wiping the counter very passionately a moment ago," he qualified, a small smile still tugging at his mouth.

"Oh." I closed my eyes momentarily and shook my head. "Uh...I was just trying to make my time pass with something. It's a quiet afternoon." I put the rag away and washed my hands quickly. "What can I get for you?"

"Just a regular coffee, please. No sugar."

"Milk or cream?"

"Cream, please."

Carlisle went to sit down at one of the tables, while I poured the coffee and added the cream. When I took it to him, he gave me warm smile. I idly took notice that he looked even more tired than the last time I'd seen him. The shadows under his eyes seemed more prominent.

"Here you go." I placed the coffee in front of him and returned his polite smile – I had just come to the decision to be casual and not let him know just how confused I actually was about seeing him again.

"Thank you."

"Anything else? Would you like a pastry with that?"

"Some other time, perhaps." He flashed me another brilliant smile. I turned away and left him to enjoy his coffee. I began to collect empty cups from a nearby table; I had to take them away to be washed. I wondered if he watched me as I did that, and I tried not to think about what Rosalie had said a few days ago about my waitress uniform. " _You look so innocent and sweet in that little red apron..._ "

"How's your hand?"

His question almost managed to startle me. I turned to give him a polite smile, holding up my right hand. "It's a lot better. I don't even have to cover the cuts any longer."

"Would you let me take a look?"

If his first question had startled me, this one definitely did. I placed the cups back on the table, clearing my throat nervously and walked over to him. I was pleased that my hand didn't tremble as I held it out for him to see. His fingers cradled my hand, and I shivered, despite the fact his skin was pleasantly warm. He examined the healing cuts carefully, giving a small nod.

"Looks good. I don't think they'll even scar." As he said that, I saw his eyes drift to the long, ugly scar on the inside of my arm. Once again, he probably wondered where I had gotten that.

"That's good," I told him and gave him a wan smile, pulling my hand back. "I have enough scars as it is, as you can see."

He gave me a sympathetic smile. "Is it because you're a trouble magnet, like you put it?"

"Yeah, I guess. That's only half of the truth, though. I'm really clumsy, you see. I can't even walk up the stairs without ending up in the ER."

He looked like he didn't quite know if he should be amused or worried. There was a beat of silence, and he just watched me and studied my face, as if to memorize it. I looked away first; I didn't want to experience the warm wave of emotion every time he looked at me like that.

Looking away didn't help much, though. I suddenly felt very warm. Too warm, like every inch of my skin was on fire.

"So." I was suddenly anxious to break the silence that had fallen for some reason or another. "No more classes for you today, Dr. Cullen?" I didn't know why I called him that – he had told me to call him Carlisle, after all. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to try to distance myself from him. Calling him by his given name seemed suddenly very intimate. Too intimate.

He shook his head, his expression unfocused for a moment. "No. I have some paperwork to do and essays to read over, and I was on my way home to take care of them, when I…" He paused and hesitated. "Well, I drove by here and remembered you told me you work here. I decided to stop and ask about your hand."

"That was very thoughtful of you." I gave him a small smile, but it turned into a grimace as a sudden stab of pain went through my head. He noticed it.

"Is everything alright?"

I nodded, rubbing my temples. "I'm fine. I think I'm developing a migraine, that's all. I've been feeling weird all day."

"Do you have medication for it?"

"Yes. I've already taken it."

"Does your shift end soon, so you can go home and get some rest?"

"I get off in an hour."

He nodded in a pondering manner, looking at me closely. "Have you remembered to eat?"

"Well... the lunch hour was a bit busy, I guess," I admitted. When I saw that he opened his mouth – without a doubt to remind me of the obvious connection between a migraine and low blood sugar – I found myself grinning. He snapped his mouth shut, smiling confusedly at my expression.

"Nothing," I said and gave a soft laugh. "It's just that...well, you told me you quit practicing a few years ago, but it seems as if you're still a doctor, heart and soul."

His smile fell faster than a stone dropping from the sky, and he glanced down at his half-empty coffee cup. His reaction confused me, making me realize I had said something wrong – unintentionally, of course. I was about to apologize and ask him if I'd offended him, but then, he lifted his gaze again, that familiar, slightly sad smile playing on his lips once more.

"Yes," he murmured quietly. "I suppose that's so. Old habits die hard." He frowned in a reflective manner, seeming lost in thought. After a moment, he snapped out of it and met my gaze again. "I was surprised to see you at the restaurant a few days ago," he said in a lighter tone. "It truly is a small world. We seem to keep running into each other every time we least expect it."

"True," I admitted, giving a soft chuckle.

"That friend of yours who was in your company," he continued, "Rosalie, was it? She seemed very...nice."

I had to force myself to keep the smile on my lips. I realized I'd possibly been right when I'd suspected he had a thing for blondes. "Yeah. She is nice," I answered. "I'd know. We grew up together."

"Really?"

I nodded, suddenly thinking to myself that I had nothing to lose. I might as well see how he would react to my next words. "You know, I'd give you her number, but she's taken."

He gave a confused laugh, shaking his head. "No, that's...that's not why I said what I did."

"Oh, right." I pretended I'd just now remembered he'd had company at the restaurant. How ironic that I'd spent several days trying to forget that. Forget _her_. "You know, I forgot that you were with someone on Saturday. She seemed..." I struggled for words, then – we hadn't been even introduced, after all, so I really couldn't comment.

He came to my aid – I wondered if I'd been too obvious just now. He probably saw through me and knew I'd just wanted to see how he would react to my words.

Damn. Rosalie was so much better at this.

"Kate is very lovely," he told me, giving me a small smile.

"Oh. That's a pretty name." _Wow. That's a stupid thing to say._ "How long have you two been together?" I was pleased that my voice was light and casual, like I didn't even give a flying...something.

I wondered if my question made him uncomfortable – it was a rather personal question, after all. He glanced down at his coffee cup again before answering.

"Not very long. Just a couple of weeks," he murmured, hesitating. "But, uh..." he sighed, "Well, I guess there's no subtle way to say this. We're not exactly together anymore. You happened to witness the beginning of our last date on Saturday."

"Oh." About a hundred thoughts went through my head during one single second. Like...why was he telling me that? I'd brought it up, of course, but if the topic was this sensitive, he could have lied. Or he could have just answered "just a couple of weeks" and fallen silent after that. But he hadn't. Why, why, _why_?

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, after I had managed to silence my inner dialogue. I was surprised to realize I was being honest – I was sorry, but only because of the bleak look in his eyes. Again, I wondered if he was lonely. It was as if he was suffering from some deep, inner sadness, and a stranger or not, I didn't want that for him. He seemed like a good man.

He gave me a long look and nodded. "These things happen," he said offhandedly. "We were just looking for different things, that's all."

I drew in a deep breath, for some reason feeling braver than normal. "And...what is it that you're looking for?"

The look in his dark, blue eyes was almost surprised. There was a spark in them I hadn't seen before; he clearly hadn't expected me to be so straightforward.

"I don't know, exactly." His tone was reflective, almost uncertain. "Perhaps...I'm not looking for anything. Sometimes, I think...sometimes, I _feel_ that particular time of my life may be behind me. Perhaps I should stop looking and be content with my life as it is."

"But...you're not?"

His smile was sad again. "Perhaps not."

"Have you tried to be?" I shook my head and tried to rephrase my question. "I mean, you said that...that particular time of your life might be behind you. Do you mean relationships and dating in general?"

"The thing is..." He hesitated again, and there was confusion in his cornflower blue eyes – I'd suppose he was wondering why he was talking about such personal matters with someone he didn't even know. Maybe he was planning on not seeing me ever again, and that was why he felt like he could be so open with me. The thought hurt more than it should have.

"Well, it's complicated. The thing is, no matter what I do, no matter how much I search..." he sighed and gave a soft, sorrowful laugh. "Sometimes, it's impossible to regain what you've lost." He kept staring at his coffee cup, but after a moment, he seemed to remember I was still standing there. "I'm sorry. You must have better things to do than listen to my ramblings."

"You were just answering my question." Or not answering it – I had to admit, I wasn't much wiser than a moment ago.

"What about you?" he asked. For a moment, I thought he was just trying to take the attention off himself, but he seemed genuinely interested.

"Me?" I asked, slightly caught off guard by his question.

He nodded, smiling softly. "Are you searching for anything, Bella?"

I had to repeat his question in my mind to be able to answer – I was momentarily overwhelmed by the unexpected rush of warmth inside me. It was the first time he had spoken my name since coming here, and hearing him say it affected me more than it should have.

"I guess I used to search for something," I answered with a smile, keeping my voice light.

"But not anymore?"

"I guess not."

"Why? What happened?"

My other hand went to the scar on the inside of my arm, my fingers kneading the slightly uneven skin. The movement was involuntary, and I didn't even realize what I had done, until I saw his eyes taking notice of my unintentional action. I tried to cover it by crossing my arms over my chest in a relaxed manner, but it was too late.

"I don't know," I told him, giving an easy shrug and trying to hide my confusion. "Maybe I don't know what I'm searching for. Or maybe I do, but...I'm a hopeless romantic, like Rosalie always keeps telling me. And romantics usually end up alone, don't they? Nothing meets our standards, after all." I gave him a playful, dry smile, and he laughed softly.

"Well, I certainly hope that won't be the case with you."

Christ, his eyes seemed to turn even bluer whenever he smiled like that.

"I don't know. Maybe I should be more like you and not search for anything." I didn't know what made me say that, but I would have done practically anything to see into his mind at that moment. Carlisle's eyes flashed in a strange way as he heard the words, and then he glanced down at the table as if to gather himself. When he looked back up at me after a moment, the expression on his face made my spine prickle.

"Well, Bella..." his lips formed my name slowly, like he enjoyed speaking my name and tried to savor it, "I suppose that's a decision only you can make."

Okay. And what did _that_ mean?

It seemed like he wouldn't be the one to give me an answer – he glanced down at his half-empty coffee cup, apparently about to drink the rest, even though it was probably cold by now.

"Can I pour you some more to warm that up?" I asked. "Or bring you a new one?"

"Thank you, but no. This is fine." He smiled, before he gulped down the rest of his coffee – for some reason, I got the feeling that he was used to having his coffee cold for one reason or another. Maybe he was so busy, he never had any time to enjoy it while it was still hot.

I collected the empty cups from the nearby table and took them away. When I was about to take him the check, once again, I began to feel unreasonably sorrowful, because I realized he was about to leave. I looked toward his table where he was still sitting, and my heart began to hammer in my chest as a crazy, self-destructive idea popped into my head. I took a pen and scribbled down my number on the check. Under the number, I wrote:

 _ **Those who don't search for anything are harder to disappoint.**_

 _ **\- Bella**_

God, that was pathetic. And very cliché. But I'd told him I was a romantic, after all. And Rosalie had said it was me who should take the initiative – that he might be unwilling to take the first step because of our obvious age difference. This was my chance. If he chose not to react, well...at least I'd tried.

I took him the check and placed it face down on the table next to his cup, giving him a polite smile.

"Here you go, Dr. Cullen."

He returned my smile. "Thank you."

I turned around and made my way back to the counter, trying not to run; I didn't want to be there when he saw the check.

"Bella?"

Crap. I turned around, a wave of relief flooding through me when I saw he hadn't looked at the check yet. "Yes?" My voice sounded ridiculously frail.

He just looked at me for a while, long enough that I began to feel nervous. His gaze made some strange, intense heat flood through me. "Please. Call me Carlisle."

I let out a breath in a rush. "Carlisle." My lips formed his name, like they'd invented it. Like they wanted to own it. Maybe they did.

I couldn't stand there a moment more. I turned around again, making a beeline for the backroom door. I closed it behind me and leaned against it, raising my hands to my cheeks and realizing my face was flooding with heat. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths and counted slowly to thirty. Only then I ventured to open the door and step out.

Carlisle was no longer there. With trembling steps, I walked to his table and saw he had left a few bills next to his cup. I took another deep breath again, repeating Rosalie's favorite phrase; the ball was in his court now. As I collected his empty cup and took the bills from the table, my heart nearly jumped up to my mouth when I saw there was writing on one of the bills. I had to put the cup back on the table; my fingers were trembling furiously.

 _ **I couldn't agree more. However, those who know what they're searching for have fewer regrets.**_

 _ **\- Carlisle**_

I stared at his neat, ornate handwriting, wishing his words would have given me answers, instead of invoking even more questions.


	5. Like The Moon Draws The Tide

_**"I am homesick for a place I am not sure even exists.**_

 _ **One where my heart is full. My body loved. And my soul understood."**_

\- Melissa Cox -

* * *

 **Like the Moon Draws the Tide**

"Huh."

I had rarely seen Rosalie so confused. She stared at the wall of my small kitchen, biting her lip.

"'Those who know...'" she trailed off and frowned. "How did it go again?"

I repeated the words Carlisle had written on the bill yesterday. " _'I couldn't agree more. However, those who know what they're searching for have fewer regrets_.'"

"And what was it you wrote on the check under your phone number?"

"'Those who don't search for anything are harder to disappoint.'"

She was still frowning. "Hmm. _'I couldn't agree more_.' You know, if he'd left it at that, I wouldn't be this damn confused right now."

"Tell me about it. What is it he wanted to say to me? That he has regrets? Everyone has those."

"Right." Rosalie blew out a long sigh, and then she got up from her chair and went to my fridge, pulling out a carton of juice. She got us two glasses and filled them, wordlessly placing the other one on the table in front of me. Then, she sat back down again, taking a swig from her own glass. "You know, Bella, you should have a bottle of vodka lying around for situations like this."

I chuckled, sipping my own juice. "Maybe. Would alcohol help us solve these riddles, though?"

"Vodka always helps. No matter what the situation."

"You're turning into Emmett."

"Isn't that what happens, when two people are together long enough? They begin to resemble each other, right?"

I grinned. "Well, in that case, I can't wait to see the day when Emmett begins to wear heels like you do."

She laughed brightly, but after a while, she was frowning and biting her lip again. _"'Those who know what they're searching for have fewer regrets._ ' Ugh! What does that _mean_?" She began to pull at her hair in frustration.

I shrugged. "Maybe he was just trying to say he doesn't know what he's looking for. He kind of said something like that when we were talking. He also said something about...some certain time of his life being behind him. It was after he told me he and that woman we saw at the restaurant – Kate – had parted ways."

"So, maybe he feels like he's getting too old for dating. Maybe he wants to settle down."

I shrugged again. "Maybe. But if that was the case, why would he say he doesn't know what he's looking for? Why would he leave that mysterious phrase about regrets on the bill? He didn't have to, after all. He could've just walked out without leaving me any kind of message at all."

"Yes, but that would've conveyed that he's not interested in you. He wanted to respond to what you wrote on the check, so you'd know he _is_ interested. But then...those words about regrets..." Rosalie shook her head. "You know, it's almost like he's trying to warn you or something."

I raised my brow. "Warn me? About what? That he's really a serial killer or something?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes, sighing again. "Okay. Let's see. What else did you talk about, when he came to see you? What else did he say?"

I hesitated. Carlisle _had_ said something else that had bugged me – or several somethings, to be honest – but some of the things he had told me seemed somehow very personal. For some reason, I almost felt like I would be betraying a confidence by talking to Rosalie about it – which was _weird_. But then again, I wanted to understand Carlisle. Maybe Rosalie could provide me with insight.

She saw my uncertain expression. "What?" she asked. "What is it? What else did he say, Bella?"

I replayed the conversation we'd had yesterday. "Uh...he said something about how he should be content with his life as it is. He also said it's complicated...and he said that, no matter what he does, no matter how much he searches...it's impossible to regain what he's lost."

" _Oh_." Rosalie closed her eyes, realization dawning on her face. "I get it now. He's nursing a broken heart. How else."

"You think so?"

"Probably. Someone disappointed him in one way or another, and he hasn't been able to recover from it. Maybe the love of his life left him or something. That's why he mentioned regrets." She frowned in a pondering manner. "Or... Hey! You said he was once a doctor, but he quit? Maybe that's another clue. Maybe he had someone in his life, and he lost her because of his job or something. Doctors work insane hours, after all. Maybe he regrets being too devoted to his work. Maybe it was the reason he lost someone important to him. And maybe that's also why he quit."

It made sense. Kind of. "Maybe." I stared at my juice, not really knowing how to feel about all this. If Rosalie was right, what would it mean in the bigger picture?

She noticed my expression. "What is it?"

I drew in a deep breath. "If you're right, and something like that did happen...well, I don't how to go on from here, to be honest. If he's really nursing a broken heart or something, if someone he cared about really left him..." I bit my lip, "Maybe you were right, when you said he wanted to warn me. Maybe he tried to say I shouldn't get involved with him. Maybe he wanted me to know he's not able to move on from something that happened to him. To be honest, maybe he was right to warn me. I don't know if I could live in someone else's shadow."

Rosalie's eyes were sympathetic. "Keep in mind that this is just speculation. We have no way of knowing what's going on with him. Besides, didn't he tell you he'd been together with that Kate for a few weeks before they broke it off? It clearly seems as though he hasn't given up on finding a relationship. Why else would he be dating? And Bella, keep in mind that he came to the café yesterday to _see_ _you_."

"He said he was just driving by, and he decided to ask how my hand is healing. It sounded more like a whim."

"Oh, that's bullshit. Your hand was just an excuse. He wanted to see you."

I wanted to believe her. I really did. "Maybe," I admitted. "But after he'd told me about ending it with that woman, he said he's not looking for anything. Does it mean he's not looking for a relationship in general? Or was that a subtle way to say he's not looking for a _serious_ relationship?" I paused, sighing. "Was it stupid of me to write those things on the check? _'Those who don't search for anything are harder to disappoint_ '? I practically admitted I'm not looking for anything serious, either. Does he now think I'm open for a casual relationship?"

"Probably. Are you, then?"

I hesitated. "Maybe. Or I don't know. I've never been good at casual. I'm always all in – I can't function any other way, it seems." I paused, momentarily lost in thought. "I was with James for almost two years, and look how that turned out. Maybe...maybe something light and casual would be a nice change. Maybe it'd take some of the pressure off, so to speak. And since it seems like Carlisle's unable to start anything serious..."

"Okay. I just don't want you to get hurt again. I can see you really like this man."

I leaned my head against the table and sighed. "I do. I like him very much." I closed my eyes and pulled in a deep breath, before straightening myself and sitting up again. "Damn. Maybe I shouldn't have given him my number, after all."

"Don't be silly. It's the only way to find out what he's up to. If he likes you back – and I don't see why he wouldn't – he'll call you soon."

"And what if he doesn't call?"

"Quit obsessing. He'll call."

Sighing, I buried my face in my hands and mumbled, "You're right. I have to start keeping a bottle of vodka around."

* * *

Carlisle didn't call.

A week passed. I felt disappointed at first. Then, I felt a little humiliated and rejected, and disappointed again after that. But mostly, I was just...sad. Utterly, heart-wrenchingly sad.

Was this how this worked? Was this how everyone sometimes felt, when they put themselves out there and found out their feelings weren't reciprocated? How did they get up time after time? Was this something they had to learn, something they had to force themselves to do? And after getting up and getting over their disappointment, did they simply take another shot with someone else? Did they risk their sanity time and time again, hoping the right person would eventually come along? Someone who didn't turn them down?

Relationships, feelings, love...I guess it was just a twisted game, where you were blindfolded, and you had to hit the target without the means to see it. Love was a pinata. How unfair.

How _cruel_.

Rosalie was very supportive, but I tried not to show her exactly how down I was. I'd actually started to believe Carlisle had come to see me at the café because he was interested in me – because I intrigued him as much as he intrigued me. I had kept telling Rosalie he was just worried about my hand, and now it turned out I had possibly been right about it...well, I obviously would have given anything to be proven wrong now.

Rosalie and Emmett left the city for the weekend – they went to see Emmett's family. Rosalie offered to stay behind and keep me company, but I refused to hear of it. Besides, I had picked up a longer shift than usual for Saturday. I didn't want to spend the day alone at my apartment, thinking about _him_...

But still... On Saturday night, when I came home from work, I went straight to bed, and when I fell asleep, I dreamed of cornflower blue eyes and golden hair.

Sunday began as any other Sunday. The morning was long and frustrating, and I decided to have coffee and chocolate for breakfast, just to convince myself to get out of bed. The good thing was it wasn't raining. It gave me the positive kick I needed, and by the time the afternoon came, I was feeling a little better about the universe again. I slowly began to believe that maybe this wasn't the end of the world, after all.

When I saw a small crack in the grey clouds and noticed the sun was about to come out, I grabbed my coat and rushed outside, deciding to enjoy the rare sight and take a walk. But by the time I closed the door of my apartment behind me, the sun was gone again. I felt a sting of disappointment, but I decided to take a walk, anyway. I'd had enough of hiding indoors – I refused to stop living because of some man I barely knew.

There was a good walking park not far away from my apartment, and I made my way there, idly thinking to myself that I'd have to bring my mom here next time she visited. We always did something fun together whenever she came to see me, and since she could never stay longer than just a couple of days, we always made every hour count – in other words, we came to my apartment only to sleep, shower and change.

It was very different, whenever Charlie came for a visit. But then again, he was living closer than Renée, and I saw him more often because of that. And then there was the fact that he was far more reserved than my mom. It was harder to be open – as in openly emotional – with Charlie, because stuff like that made him uncomfortable. I wondered if that was one of the reasons why his and my mom's marriage had failed all those years ago. Maybe they were just too different. Apparently, the saying "opposites attract" didn't always apply.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I walked farther than I had intended. I suddenly noticed I'd left the park behind me a long time ago. I gave an inward shrug – I was in no hurry to return to my empty apartment. The August afternoon was pleasantly warm, and after a while, I took off the light coat I'd put on in case there was a sudden change in the weather, folding it over my arm. Idly kicking a pebble along as I walked, I noticed my route had led me past a cemetery.

I idly scanned the conifer trees, green lawns and old headstones, and I thought to myself that I should turn around soon. It had taken me almost a half an hour to walk here, and it would obviously take just as much to walk back. Even longer if I happened stop to get a coffee or an ice cream...or both. The thought of this simple luxury cheered me up more than I expected, and I was pleased that my day was looking up.

I'd barely finished the thought when I turned to look ahead of me again. Movement among the conifer trees that grew close to the sidewalk caught my attention. A man dressed in a grey button-down shirt and black pants was walking out of the cemetery.

A tall, blond man.

 _Fuck_.

I rarely used that word, even in my thoughts. Now, I kind of wanted to scream it. Did the universe hate me this much? Why was he here? Why was _I_ here? Why did I have to walk this way, when I could have taken a different route? _Any_ different route?

Why had I left my apartment _at all_?

I only had a second or two to react. There was nothing I could hide behind, except for the trees that stood a few paces away from me, but he was too close, and he'd definitely see me if I tried to dash behind them. I saw him give a glance over his shoulder at the same time as he stepped onto the sidewalk. I only had once option.

I whirled around, desperately hoping he couldn't recognize me from the back of my head.

No such luck.

"Bella?"

I squeezed my eyes closed in frustration and walked faster. If I ignored him, maybe he might think I was someone else.

Or...maybe not.

"Bella!"

I walked even faster.

I heard hurried footsteps. Then, I heard _jogging_ footsteps. I wondered idly if I could begin to run as well and still pretend I was someone else, and all the while maintain my credibility.

"Bella! Bella, stop!"

A hand touched my shoulder. A warm hand. _His_ hand. I squeezed my eyes closed again and did as he asked, torn between relief and agony, as his touch left my shoulder. I turned around slowly, keeping my eyes on the ground, because I didn't want to see his. I didn't want to see how the grey clouds reflected from their blue depths. I didn't want to see any of that. I didn't want to look.

But of course I did; I was helpless.

I couldn't read the expression on Carlisle's face. It was something like nervous and relieved and sorry. Why?

And why had he run after me? He could have just pretended he hadn't seen me and continued on his way. That was what I'd tried to do. I had done my part to make this situation easier and less uncomfortable for both of us.

Why did he seem to want to make it harder, then?

"What do you want?" I asked. I realized how rude that probably sounded, but my soft, quiet voice probably took some of the edge off my words. Still, he was taken aback by my reaction. It took a moment before he recovered.

And then, it was my turn to recover. His next words managed to surprise me.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, and he really looked like he was sorry. And tired.

He always looked _so_ tired.

I wrapped my arms around myself, squeezing my light summer coat in my other fist. I was suddenly glad I had something to focus on. Something physical to hold onto. I squeezed the coat even tighter.

"About what?" I asked, forcing myself to meet his gaze. Again, my voice was quiet and soft, the complete opposite of the churning chaos inside me.

He blew out another sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "I believe you know."

"No, actually, I don't."

"Then, why did you turn around when you saw me? Why did you pretend you didn't hear me calling your name?"

I shrugged. My eyes drank in his face, even though my brain screamed at me to close my eyes.

"Listen, Bella – "

"Look, you don't have to do this," I interrupted him, uncrossing my arms and holding up my other palm, as if to physically keep him away.

A frown crinkled his brow. "Do what?" he asked. His confusion was so genuine it almost made me lose my train of thought.

"I believe you know," I retorted quietly, throwing his earlier words back at him.

A small smile tugged at his mouth, as he repeated my own words to me in return. "No, actually, I don't."

I sighed, trying to look anywhere but into his eyes. "Look...I know what you're trying to do, and I just want to stop you right there. There's no need to explain or feel guilty. Really. These things happen all the time. You don't have to try to smooth it over. It's fine." I was glad I managed to keep my voice smooth and light, almost formal.

Carlisle waited patiently until I fell silent. When I stopped talking and heaved out a breath, he just watched me for a moment, staying quiet.

"I can only assume," he began, "that you're referring to me not calling you?"

I did my best to give him a small, easy smile. "Exactly. And really, you don't have to explain why you didn't call. You don't owe me an explanation. Maybe I was out of line, giving you my number in the first place. I mean, I get it. You must've thought that I'm...silly."

The look in his eyes was veiled as he regarded me. "Do you regret it?" he asked quietly. "That you gave me your number?"

I thought about that. I searched myself, wanting to give him an honest answer, partly because I wanted to know it myself. Of course, it had hurt me that he hadn't called, but...did I regret trying?

"No. It was worth the shot, I guess."

"Why?" The look in his eyes was now strange. Intense.

I searched for words, not really knowing how to explain. "You just seemed very nice," I answered eventually, deciding honesty was the best policy now. "And I'm sure you don't just seem nice. I'm sure you are. But I get it. I'm sure we have a lot of differences, and age must be just one of them."

Carlisle was watching me closely. "Would it bother you, Bella? Our age difference?"

"No. Of course not. How old are you, anyway?" I asked, knowing I might not get another chance to ask that, and also deciding that at least _one_ question would receive an answer today. It was only fair. The man was full of mysteries, but maybe this was the one thing I could learn about him.

He gave me a small smile. "I turned forty-five in February."

Oh. So, I'd guessed his age somewhat correctly. Although, I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd turned out to be even older than that. It was not that he _looked_ that old. It was that strange aura of time and melancholy around him that made him appear older than he was. It was like he was stuck in some endless time loop of torture the rest of the world knew nothing about.

"Well?" he asked, when I'd remained quiet a lot longer than I'd intended to.

"Well what?"

He gave a soft laugh. "Does it bother you now that you know?"

I shook my head. "No. Of course not. But I can't blame you if it bothers _you_. I mean, I turn twenty-five in a couple of weeks. There are twenty years between us. Think about it. Twenty years ago, you were my age. Twenty years ago, I was five years old."

He nodded patiently, that small smile on his lips now amused. "Yes, Bella. I can count myself."

"I just don't understand what a nice man your age would want from someone like me."

"Why would you undervalue yourself because of something like that? Do you honestly think your younger age makes you inferior?"

I shook my head. "No. That's not what I'm saying at all. You misunderstood. What I tried to say was that our age difference alone might cause us to see things differently. And it can also mean we want different things. Age is a factor in these matters."

"Sometimes," he admitted.

"So." I uncrossed my arms and bunched my coat in my fists. "I'm sure you've thought about all these things. It's only right that you did. And I understand why you chose not to call me. I do. If you don't see me that way...then, it's fine. You don't owe me anything."

"I think I owe you an explanation," he disagreed lightly, "And an apology, too. I believe I already attempted to say I'm sorry, but there seemed to be some confusion as to why I'm apologizing. Now that there no longer is, I'd like to take this opportunity to say that I am sorry, Bella. I'm sorry I didn't call."

"It's fine," I repeated, drawing in a deep breath and hoping he'd let me walk away, now that he'd gotten that off his chest. It seemed to be important to him. He had been worried about hurting my feelings and probably felt bad for it. And now, he had apologized. I'd been right; he was a true gentleman.

Somehow, learning that made this even harder.

"It's not fine, Bella," he disagreed, shaking his head. "It's definitely not fine."

"It is." I took a few steps backwards, unwilling to prolong this much longer. "Don't worry. Like I said, you don't owe anything. I mean it."

"Bella – "

I turned around and began to walk away. I suddenly realized hot tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes. I didn't even know why. It was just that it seemed as if it had taken me a forever to get here, to get over the disappointment, to accept that he didn't see me that way. I'd already begun to feel better, and I'd actually started to feel like maybe this wasn't the end of the world, after all, and now I had to run into him again.

Why, _why_ had this happened? I felt like my process of getting over his rejection began all over again, and I wondered how many chocolate and coffee breakfasts it would take this time to make my mood at least tolerable.

"Bella. Bella!"

There were hasty footsteps behind me again. I knew that maybe I shouldn't have walked away before I'd known for certain he had nothing more to say. But I'd just felt like standing there was the same thing as standing too close to an open fire that was out of control. It would only cause unnecessary hurt, and I'd get burns and blisters I'd have to nurse for weeks.

The hurried footsteps were closer now; he had to run again to catch up with me. Blinking furiously to banish the tears, I prepared to listen to what he had to say, but I would _not_ stop this time. He would just have to keep up with me, if there was something else he needed to get off his chest.

It turned out I was wrong about all those things. It wasn't his intention to just catch up with me. He also had nothing to say this time. And against my earlier decision, I had to stop; he forced me to.

He didn't just touch my shoulder this time. He practically grabbed it, giving me no choice but to turn around. As soon as I did, I caught a glimpse of his blue, stormy eyes, before his hot, demanding lips claimed mine.

It was like silence had suddenly turned into full volume. Like the world had changed from endless black and white into an explosion of colors. Like everything that had once been bland and temperate was suddenly violent and uncontrolled and brilliant. I heard myself gasp against his moutht as he molded his lips to mine, felt my fingers grab the front of his shirt. His hands slipped from my shoulders to my waist, and he pulled me against him almost roughly. I heard myself let out a ridiculous, uncontrollable moan as I felt his body press up against mine.

He had a strong, solid frame, muscular but not too bulky. My hands wrapped around his shoulders on their own accord, and I could literally feel the tensing and flexing of his muscles as he held me to him. As his tongue darted out to meet mine, I thought I felt him tremble. Intense heat flooded through me, making me want to take in more air than I could possibly breathe. I wanted, _needed_ , to get even closer to him. Because this wasn't close enough. I wanted his skin against mine, I wanted it to be just me and him, no barriers, no clothes, no nothing. I knew he wanted it too; I could literally feel how his body responded to my closeness, and as I felt him stir against my stomach, another moan welled up in my chest.

I heard him let out a quiet groan, like he was in physical pain, and then, his lips abandoned my own. I felt myself reel, and he had to take hold of my arms to keep me upright. Or maybe to keep _himself_ upright. His eyes were closed as he pulled back, trying to put some distance between our bodies. My knees were shaking, and I felt limp and nerveless, like I'd just tried to run farther than my feet could ever take me.

Maybe he was feeling the same; it was a moment before he could bring himself to open his eyes, and another before his heavy, labored breathing turned close to normal.

Only one thought fit into my mind in that moment.

No one had ever kissed me like that before. No one.

"Bella..."

As he said my name, I also realized no one had spoken my name like that ever before. His lips formed it like it was the only name, the only word, that could fit into his mind. He spoke it like his lips had invented it. Like they wanted to own it.

God...no words could describe how much I wanted them to own it.

Still breathing heavily, still trembling from head to toe, still doing all I could to stay on my wobbly feet, I looked at him. I was thrilled and confused and shocked and millions of other things, and it seemed like it was the feelings of shock that wanted to run my lips the most right now.

"Why did you...why did you do that?" I heard myself ask. I realized the earlier tears that had burned my eyes had escaped – I couldn't even tell when. I quickly dashed a hand across my eyes.

Carlisle heaved out a quick breath. He released his hold on my arms and took a small step back. I saw the words his mouth was about to form before he even spoke them.

"I'm sor–"

"Don't say you're sorry," I interrupted him. I realized I was whispering; it felt somehow wrong to speak at a normal volume after what had happened. "Just...just answer my question. Please."

Carlisle dragged a hand through his hair, and I thought I saw a hint of a tremble in his fingers. "Because I had to. Because I _wanted_ to," he simply said, blowing out a breath, as if to force himself to calm down.

"Oh." I didn't know what to answer. No words were good enough. My mind was just a whirl of pieces of thoughts, and I couldn't put those pieces together. I'd suppose you weren't expected to be able to do that, after a kiss like that.

Something on the ground between us caught Carlisle's attention, and he reached down to pick it up. It was my coat – I must have dropped it at some point, when my hands were too busy to hold it. He gave it back to me, and I took it, still staring at his face, his stormy blue eyes.

Carlisle drew in a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair again. He did that a lot – maybe that was why his hair was always swept back.

"Bella," he said, my name coming out as a quiet sigh this time. "Would you take a walk with me?"

A walk. The activity felt too normal after that earth-shattering kiss. I somehow managed to nod, pleased that feeling began to return to my legs. I tried to remember how to speak. "Sure. I mean, that's what I was doing before. Taking a walk. And then..." I gestured towards the cemetery, wondering what he had been doing there.

He glanced toward the cemetery, nodding in a pensive manner. "Well, may I tempt you to finish your walk with me? I'd very much like to talk to you. And please, don't walk away from me this time." A small smile pulled at his lips.

Nodding, I took a shaky step forward. He fell into step beside me and kept a small distance between us; I wondered about that. After all, a moment ago, it had seemed as if he couldn't get close enough. He suddenly seemed to be deep in thought.

I drew in a slow breath, unable to stand the silence any longer. "I thought it was night walks you enjoyed," I stated in a dry manner. "Maybe that's why I didn't expect to run into you during the day. And besides, it's not raining, either."

He gave a soft laugh. "Well, I never said I _enjoy_ night walks," he corrected, his eyes reflective. "I said that's when I usually find myself wanting to go for a walk. Also, rain is not a prerequisite, either." His eyes were amused now. "It's simply a condition you sometimes have to live with."

"Especially in Seattle."

"Right." There was a wooden bench close to the sidewalk. I saw Carlisle look at it, and then he inclined his head towards it, wordlessly suggesting we sit down. As he took a seat next to me, once again, he left some distance between our bodies. It felt somehow wrong, considering the intimate embrace we'd shared just a moment ago.

I waited patiently as he gathered his thoughts and searched for words. After a while, he let out a long breath, leaning his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together.

"Like I earlier said, Bella, I'm sorry I didn't call you. It's not because I didn't want to. Because, believe me, I did want to." He sounded sincere.

"You did?" I asked, maybe just to get him talking again. I hadn't realized before how much I actually enjoyed the sound of his soft voice.

"Yes." He met my eyes, locking his gaze with mine. "Every night of this past week, I've been sitting with my phone in my hand, and time and time again, I've had to talk myself out of calling you."

"But..." I frowned, not knowing if I should feel hurt or confused. Or both. "But you just said you wanted to call..."

"I did. I really, really wanted to. But I didn't, because I knew...because I knew I shouldn't. That it'd be for the best if I didn't."

I tried to gather my thoughts, completely thrown by his words. "So, something about this _is_ bothering you. Is it your age, my age, something else? I mean, what _is_ it? Just tell me."

He looked down at the ground in a pondering manner. "It's not the age difference that bothers me. If you say you'd be fine with it..." he sighed, "Then, so would I. But...I'm just concerned."

"About what?"

He met my eyes again. Something shifted in his face; it was as if he expected his next words to change everything. Like he was _afraid_ they would change everything. That he might lose something important the next time he spoke.

"I'm pretty sure," he answered slowly, "that we're not looking for the same things. Our circumstances...they're very different. They always will be."

"How can you know that?" I asked, giving a confused laugh. "And how can you know we're not looking for the same things? We've barely had a handful of conversations with each other. You don't know anything about my life circumstances, just like I know nothing about yours."

"Exactly." He was staring at the ground again. "You know nothing about me. I... While it has nothing to do with my current thoughts or feelings about you, the truth is, you're very young. You have a whole life ahead you. But me...it's very different when it comes to me. And you're right – I know nothing about your circumstances. But my point is, it doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because I know enough about my own life, my own circumstances. I know more than enough about myself to say I'm not cut out for serious relationships. That's how it's been for several years. I've tried to change that, numerous times, actually, but..." He shook his head and raked a hand along his scalp. "What I'm trying to say is that, you seem like a very sweet girl, Bella. I knew it from the moment I met you, before you'd even spoken a single word to me. You deserve someone who's able to start something real with you. Someone who's all in." He paused, holding my gaze. " _That's_ why I couldn't bring myself to call you. Because I know I'm not able to give you those things. No matter how much I like you."

I drew in a deep breath, trying to take it all in. So, I had been right. The things he had written on the bill last week...he had tried to say he was not looking for anything serious.

"When you say you're not cut out for serious relationships...and you've tried to change that...what do you mean by that, exactly? Does it mean you've never had a long-term, serious relationship? What kind of relationships do you have, then? Casual and non-exclusive? Flings?"

He swallowed. "Sometimes."

"But these things...they never last?"

He shook his head. "No, Bella. They never last."

"So..." I closed my eyes momentarily, trying to clear my head, "What is it, then? Are you a serial killer or something? Do you have problems with commitment? Do you have issues with alcohol, what?" I didn't know what made me so blunt. Since he seemed to be able to admit those few things so openly, I just assumed I was allowed to ask more questions. He'd brought this up, after all. "Why is it you're not cut out for anything serious? And why have you failed when you've tried?"

He hesitated. A pained look came over his face, and he looked away from my eyes, maybe to hide his expression. He straightened himself, leaning back against the bench.

"Do you have...an illness or something?" I asked gently, when he didn't say anything. I just assumed whatever it was, it must have been a sensitive matter. "Is it why you always look so tired?"

A familiar, sad smile began to curve his lips. "No. I don't have an illness. But I am tired."

"Of what?"

He leaned forward, momentarily resting his face in his palms. Again, I got the feeling he didn't want me to see his expression.

"It's..." When he spoke, his voice nearly startled me; I hadn't expected him to answer. "It's...complicated. I know how frustrating that must sound to you. But..." He struggled for words, his eyes on the ground again. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm not ready to talk about it. I might never be. And that's the problem. That's the biggest mountain in my life, and it always will be." He fell silent, leaning back in order to look at me again.

"And...you can't climb that mountain?" I asked softly.

He shook his head. "No. I can't. And that's exactly why it'd be better if I just got up and left this instant. You're only wasting your time with me."

I swallowed. Something about his voice and eyes told me he might do just that. That he was being honest, sincere. Rosalie had been right – he had tried to warn me about something, when he had written those words about regrets on the bill. The question was, what were those regrets? And should I listen to him? Should I just heed his words and let him walk away from me? There clearly was something that bothered him so much that he couldn't fathom the idea of starting a relationship with me. There was something that would come between us sooner or later, and only he knew what that something was. It wasn't exactly a fair situation. He knew that.

That was why he had said those things. He was trying to protect me from heartache. He didn't even know me, and yet, he felt the need to shield me from... _something_. Whatever that something was.

I pulled in a steadying breath. Carlisle was watching me carefully. His eyes were anxious, as he waited for me to say something.

"Why did you come to the café to see me, then?" I asked, trying not to get upset. "And why did you run after me just now? You could've just pretended you didn't see me. I get it that you wanted to explain yourself, but..." I shook my head and looked down at my hands, idly realizing I was fisting my coat in my hands again. "Why did you have to kiss me, if you'd already decided to walk away? _Why_?"

He swallowed thickly, not meeting my eyes. "I know I shouldn't have done any of that. I shouldn't have come to the café last week, and I shouldn't have kissed you."

"Why did you, then?"

He closed his eyes and dropped his head. "I don't know. I just couldn't...I just couldn't help myself. That's all. I like you, Bella. I really like you. It's as simple as that." He swallowed, the look in his eyes so intense my heart tightened. "I know nothing about you except that you love your old truck, and your father's name is Charlie, and you're too clumsy for your own good, and your best friend's name is Rosalie, and you're a hopeless romantic, and you hate needles and blood and hospitals, and you're a trouble magnet. Which is probably why I'm still sitting here. Bella, you just..." He sighed heavily. "You draw me in like the moon draws the tide." He yanked at his hair, frustration in every bone of his body. He got up from the bench so quickly I actually jumped at his sudden movement.

He paced a couple of steps away, running a hand down his face. I got up from the bench as well, walking to him. Because he drew me in, too. I couldn't help it. I couldn't change it.

The truth was...I didn't even want to.

I touched his arm gently. He turned to look at me. Drawing in a trembling breath, I slid my hand down his arm and took his hand.

"What I wrote on the check last week..." I began quietly, "What if...what if I meant it? What if the words I wrote are true? What if those who don't search for anything don't end up disappointed?" I held his gaze. His cornflower blue eyes took on a slightly darker shade.

"Do you mean...?" he trailed off, almost as if he was afraid to speak his thoughts aloud. As if he was afraid he had misunderstood me.

"I mean, maybe we don't have to make this into something difficult and...complicated," I explained. "Last week, when I said I don't know what I'm searching for, I was being honest. Sometimes, I feel like I'm a little lost myself. But that's alright. It doesn't bother me, because I know there'll be a day when I don't feel like that anymore."

He nodded, and something flashed in his eyes again. Something like sadness. "I must say, I envy you for being able to think like that." He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and then he turned to look at me again. His eyes were desperate now, almost tormented. His fingers squeezed mine. "What are you trying to say to me, Bella? What did you mean when you said we don't have to make this something difficult and complicated?"

The naked despair, the _need_ in his eyes made something inside me ache. "I'm trying to say I like you, too. That I'm intrigued by you. It's as simple as that," I murmured, repeating the words he had said to me a moment ago. "I know nothing about you except you take your coffee with cream, and you always look tired, and you have a good heater in your car." He smiled at that one. "All I know is you like to go for walks at night, even if it's raining like crazy, and for some reason, you find it soothing. And I know you were once a very good doctor – I saw it from the way you took care of my hand – and I also know that, no matter what you do, no matter how much you search, you've lost something you can't regain." He looked away from my eyes then. I tightened my hold around his hand. "I don't know what that something is," I murmured quietly, "Maybe I'll never know. But maybe I don't have to. I want to, of course, but if that's something you're not able to share..."

That made him look at me again. He raised his other hand, as if to touch my face, but then, he drew it away. He squeezed his eyes closed, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Bella. This isn't a good idea. Somewhere down the road, I'll disappoint you. Believe me, you wouldn't be the first person I've let down."

"Remember what I said," I reminded him softly. "Remember what I wrote on the check. Those who don't search for anything are harder to disappoint. We don't have to start anything serious, if you don't want to. I'm open to anything." I stepped closer to him, so that my hip brushed his thigh. "I mean it, Carlisle. I like you. You intrigue me. If you want, we can just be friends, or we can try to be something more and see how it works. And if it doesn't feel right..."

"Then what?" his voice was a mere whisper.

"Then...we'll go back to the way we were," I smiled softly. "I keep ending up in trouble, and you keep appearing in the right place at the right time, and then you fix me up with band-aids, if needed. And then, we do it all over again. I wouldn't mind that, either. Just as long as I get to see you sometimes."

The look in his eyes was torn between hope and uncertainty. He tightened his hold around my fingers, as if to draw strength from the contact.

I pressed closer to him again, understanding that he wasn't ready to decide. His arms wrapped around me almost reflexively, as I rose to my tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss on the angle of his jaw. As I nuzzled his neck with my nose, I felt him tremble against me.

"Think about it," I whispered. Then, I pulled back. As I stepped away from him, he seemed reluctant to let me go.

As I turned around and walked away, I could feel his eyes following my every movement.


	6. Lights And Sparks

_**"All this time, I'd thought we were strangers,**_

 _ **and it turned out we knew each other intuitively,**_

 _ **in our bones, in our blood."**_

 _ **-**_ Gillian Flynn, _Gone Girl **-**_

* * *

 **Lights and Sparks**

I couldn't sleep that night.

My thoughts kept going back to Carlisle. I kept thinking about that constant shadow of sorrow in his eyes, and I wondered what it was that had happened to him, what had made him the person he was now. If he had been honest with me, and if he really liked me, then what was stopping him from starting something real with me?

I'd gotten the impression he had tried to start serious relationships in the past. Whatever stood in the way of that clearly weighed him down. I realized he hadn't answered some – or most – of the questions I'd asked him, like if he had issues with commitment, for instance. The only thing I did know was he sometimes had flings and short relationships that always stayed casual.

I wondered if it was always him who walked out of those. Or did women leave him after realizing he wasn't boyfriend or husband material? And if that was so, what was the reason?

Or maybe...maybe he just hadn't found the right person yet, as simple as that. But then, I remembered Rosalie's suspicions. She had suggested that maybe someone had once broken his heart, and he had simply never gotten over it. Maybe that was the reason why he was the way he was. Maybe he was just traumatized, and that was all.

I was so at a loss when it came to him. It made me wonder if I'd done a stupid thing, suggesting I might be open to a casual relationship with him. Would that screw him up even more? Or would I end up broken-hearted myself?

I hoped not.

This was the one thing I couldn't lie about, even to myself. I really liked him. Something about Carlisle fascinated me, drew me in like the moon pulled the tide, like he had put it. I hadn't felt such attraction for anyone ever before. It frightened me a bit. But mostly, I just felt...thrilled. Overwhelmed. Alive. Like I had awoken after a very long sleep.

Maybe this was just a disaster waiting to happen, but I was sure about one thing. If I didn't at least try to get to know Carlisle, I'd regret it for the rest of my life.

I wondered what would happen if I didn't hear from him. I'd told him we could be friends, or something more, and now he had to decide what he wanted. Would he simply take the easy way out and not call, if he chose not to get involved with me? Or would he feel the need to come to me and explain why he felt any type of relationship with him wasn't a good idea?

Then, I remembered the way he had run after me, how he had clung to me like a drowning man to a life raft. I remembered how his hot, demanding lips had caressed mine, how he had pulled me as close to his body as possible. I remembered his hardness against my stomach, how heat had flooded through me, when I'd realized he wanted me as much as I wanted him...

I shouldn't have thought about those things; they didn't exactly help me sleep. I kicked the covers off my body, suddenly feeling way too hot. Removing the covers didn't help, though. The memory of Carlisle's lips assaulting mine kept invading my thoughts, and I realized I hadn't been kissed with such urgency and passion ever before. My skin began to tingle in a pleasant, but very, _very_ frustrating way.

Blowing out a sigh, I tangled my fingers into my hair and pulled – hard – to get rid of the images in my head. But then, I imagined they were _his_ fingers diving into my hair. _His_ hands sliding along my skin, _his_ lips caressing the hollow of my throat as he kissed his way down my body...

Damn it.

It was the first time in my life I'd had to get up in the middle of the night to take a cold shower. But even as I stood under the spray, no matter how cold I turned it, Carlisle kept invading my thoughts. I wondered if he was awake, too. I wondered if he was unable to sleep, and if he was taking a walk, like he had said he sometimes did at nights.

I wondered if he was thinking about me, too.

I desperately needed to talk to Rosalie. She would know if I'd made a mistake. I had a feeling she would be very surprised to hear I'd been the one to suggest to Carlisle that we have a casual relationship.

In the morning, I texted her and asked how the visit to Emmett's parents had been, and I also inquired if she'd have time for a lunch date this week. It turned out she was too busy at the salon, at least at the beginning of the week, but she promised to stop by the café in a few days, as soon as things calmed down. It made me even more jittery, knowing I couldn't obsess about this with her; Rosalie had a unique way of settling my nerves. But I understood she was busy, and therefore, I had no choice but to try to manage this by myself.

Thank goodness it was Monday – Mondays were always crazy. I had a late shift at the café, and that could count as a blessing as well, I'd suppose. I was tired from staying up the previous night, and when I got home late in the evening, I took a quick shower and went straight to bed.

Needless to say, I dreamed of cornflower blue eyes and hot, demanding lips on my skin.

When I woke up the next morning, restless and wired from the dreams, I knew things needed to change. This needed to _stop_. I couldn't be so hung up on a man who was clearly unwilling to start anything serious with me. This helpless infatuation I felt for him... it wasn't healthy. I tried to tell myself it was just physical attraction and nothing more, the result of being alone for almost a year, but I couldn't bring myself to believe my own reassurances.

He was handsome, yes...and sexy as hell. But there was something else about Carlisle as well, something that pulled me in, something that made me want to learn more about him. I couldn't deny it – I was drawn to his spirit and mind, just as much as I was drawn to his body.

And he liked me, too – he had said so himself. But something...something held him back. What could it be?

 _"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm not ready to talk about it. I might never be. And that's the problem. That's the biggest mountain in my life, and it always will be."_

Sighing, I dragged myself out of bed and prepared for my morning shift. After getting dressed, I tamed my hair and gathered it into a bun at my neck. Taking a peek outside, I noticed the sky was veiled by heavy clouds, but it wasn't raining. I decided to walk to the café in order to vent my pent-up frustration. Grabbing a banana from the basket that sat on my kitchen counter, I quickly peeled it and took bites from it as I gathered my things. A few moments later, I grabbed my umbrella, just in case, and headed out the door.

 _"...It'd be better if I just got up and left this instant. You're only wasting your time with me..."_

I shook my head in a vain attempt to get rid of the memory of his words. I tried to focus on the upcoming day, wondering how to deal with this whole thing if I didn't hear from him soon. I was forced to admit to myself that, if yesterday hadn't been so busy, and if I'd had more time to think, I might have been disappointed he hadn't called yet. I guess I was afraid of that – being disappointed. That was why I began to prepare myself for the possibility that I really might not hear from him ever again.

That maybe he'd already made up his mind.

Something occurred to me suddenly. On Sunday, when I had run into Carlisle, he'd been coming from the cemetery. I'd been so shocked and overwhelmed about seeing him I'd completely ignored and forgotten about the whole thing.

What had he been doing in the cemetery? Was it a habit of his to visit someone's grave on Sundays? It also made me wonder if he was religious. I didn't dwell on that for long, though. I suddenly thought about Rosalie's suspicions – she had suggested maybe Carlisle was nursing a broken heart. Maybe that was true...and maybe there was more to it than that.

What was it he had told me, when he had come to the café last week to see me? That he had lost something that couldn't be regained?

Maybe this was the answer. I remembered the tired look in Carlisle's eyes, the shadows on his face, the constant sadness in his smile...and the thought that slowly formed inside my mind made me sorrowful.

Maybe no one had broken his heart – not intentionally, anyway. Maybe he was grieving.

Why couldn't he talk about it, then? Was it still too fresh, too painful to acknowledge he had lost someone he'd loved? And who was this person he had lost? The love of his life? His high school sweetheart? Maybe. It made me think about what I had said to Rosalie. I had said I didn't know if I could live in someone else's shadow. If it was true that Carlisle was mourning some woman he had lost, did it mean I just had to accept the fact that he might never be able to get over her death? And what if I couldn't accept that? Was it selfish and petty of me? Kind of.

At the same time, though, I realized I still felt this indescribable pull towards him. And as cliché and silly as it sounded, there was a part of me that wanted to help him. That wanted to make him feel better, no matter what the cost. Maybe he had shadows in his life, and maybe they'd never go away, but maybe, just maybe, there would be light in his life someday as well. Could I give that to him?

I sighed. Rosalie was right. I was a hopeless romantic.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly walked past the café. I changed into my waitress outfit without focusing on what I was doing, and when I emerged from the changing room, the other waitress – Sammy – who usually worked together with me in the mornings, gave me a weird look and told me my apron was back-to-front.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I forced my thoughts onto something else and began to prepare for the day. The morning was busy, which was good; a lot of people usually came by on their way to work. Some of them stayed at the café to enjoy their coffee – or tea, we also served a variety of teas – but most of the customers liked to have their coffee on the go in the mornings.

As I was serving tea for an elderly woman – every morning, she had her tea with lemon and honey and nothing else – I somehow managed to burn my hand by pouring scalding hot water on it. Sammy saved me and took over, while I rushed to the backroom to run cool water over it.

I cursed inwardly as I held my hand under the running water for a few minutes. It was my right hand, of course. Just when the cuts had healed, this happened. How else.

Luckily, there was a good first-aid kit in the backroom, and a medicine cabinet as well. I'd noticed the cabinet had appeared soon after I'd started working here a couple of years ago; I tried not to think that maybe the owner had gotten it because of me. Vaguely remembering that Renée had always told me not to put cream on burns, I shuffled through the cabinet's contents and found some non-stick gauze pads. The burn wasn't very large; the base of my thumb had suffered the most damage. I bit my lip as I covered the burn with a pad and secured it in place with some gauze, and after that, I somehow managed to ease a rubber glove over my hand.

Sammy told me to go home if I couldn't work, but the café was packed, and we weren't sure if we could find anyone to fill in for me on such a short notice. Therefore, I just ground my teeth and suffered in silence, relying on painkillers to carry me through the next hours.

In the afternoon, I was collecting empty dishes from the tables, trying to mind my hand. I accidentally bumped it against one of the chairs, of course, and I cursed quietly in pain.

"Such foul language," a smooth voice behind me said. I jumped so badly I nearly dropped the tray where I'd gathered the empty cups and plates. My heart flapped in my chest like a caged bird, as I slowly turned around.

"Jesus. Don't scare me like that."

There was an amused glimmer in Carlisle's eyes. "Didn't you hear me come in?"

"No, I obviously didn't." I drew in a deep breath, trying to make my heart calm down. I didn't know if it wanted to race out of my chest because he had startled me or because he was here. A large part of me hadn't expected to see him – I'd done a pretty good job at not thinking about him during the last couple of hours.

For a moment, I just drank in his presence. Not too long, though. If he had come here to offer another apology...to explain why it wasn't a good idea for us to see each other again...

I swallowed, avoiding his deep blue eyes to keep myself intact. "Coffee?" I asked, as I walked past him.

"No, thank you. Some other time."

As I took the tray away, he followed me. I grabbed a cloth, wetting it before beginning to wipe the tables and straightening the chairs. "So, how was your day?" I asked casually. "Are you done with your classes?"

"I am." I saw him glance at the clock. "And you? Are you working a later shift?"

I shook my head. "No, I've been here since morning."

"When do you get off?"

"In a couple of minutes. As soon as I'm done with this." I waved the rag at him and headed for the tables on the other side of the café. For some reason, it surprised me, as he trailed behind me. And since I was surprised, it could only mean I'd done a very good job of convincing myself I might not see him again. I felt a little surreal now, to have him watch me as I worked.

"What happened to your hand?" he suddenly asked.

I glanced at Carlisle; he was frowning in a worried manner.

"Oh, it's nothing," I brushed it off, giving him a smile. "Bella the klutz just happened to strike again, that's all. I poured hot water over it this morning."

"How bad is it?"

"Not that bad. I ran cool water over it and then I covered the burn with a non-stick dressing."

He nodded, but the frown didn't leave his face. I could see he really wanted to examine my hand more closely, but I suddenly felt as if I couldn't stand to feel his warm skin against mine. I felt like I might self-combust. He looked so good in his blue button-down shirt and tie...too good.

I wiped the last table clean and returned to the counter, putting the cloth away. I told him I'd be back in a minute – I had to change.

I spent more time in the changing room than was necessary – I wasn't even sure myself why facing him seemed suddenly so difficult. I guess I was just expecting bad news, and I still felt a little surreal that he had actually come to see me. Maybe he really did like me.

But did he like me enough to stay? And if he didn't, had he come here to tell me that?

Drawing in a breath, I peeled the glove off my hand, hissing as I did so. Then, I let down my hair, grabbing my coat and the umbrella I'd taken with me this morning, before making my way into the café again. No matter what was coming, I just had to face it. He wasn't the first man I'd had to walk away from, after all.

But he might be the first who wanted to end it before anything had even happened. I wanted to scream at the absurdity of it.

He was sitting down at one of the tables. The waitress who had arrived for her shift was asking him if he wanted a cup of coffee, but again, Carlisle declined politely. I couldn't help but notice how the waitress stared at him – apparently, I wasn't the only one affected by his presence. As soon as Carlisle spotted me, he got up and approached me. He gave a glance at my umbrella.

"Is your truck giving you trouble again?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No. I walked this morning to...well, to blow off some steam. I was feeling a little," I hesitated, "I don't know, wired."

I could see he was wondering what I meant by that. "I see," he murmured, smiling softly. "I was under the impression you'd made the decision to never walk home alone again – at least not without your pepper spray."

I chuckled, for some reason flattered that he'd remembered what I'd said that one night. "Well, I think I may limit that decision to specific circumstances. When it's dark and late, I'll be glad to drive."

He smiled, and then he hurried to open the door for me. I gave him a curious glance as we made our way outside.

"So. What brings you here?" I asked.

He hesitated and just looked at me for a while. When he didn't answer, I lifted my injured hand and gave him a playful smile. "Did your Bella radar go off again? Do you have a sixth sense that warns you whenever I'm trouble?"

He chuckled softly. "Maybe. Would you let me take a look at that?"

"Oh, you don't have to – "

My resistance was futile; he had already reached for my hand, and my heart gave a little stutter as his warm fingers wrapped around my wrist. He unwrapped the gauze and lifted the non-stick dressing, his eyes studying the burn with care.

"Well, Dr. Cullen?" I asked in a playful tone. "Will I live?"

He flicked me a smile. "Well, Ms. Swan," he answered formally. "It doesn't look too bad. I'm sure it's painful, though. It might blister in a day or two. Working with that hand while it heals will be difficult." He put the dressing back in place and wrapped the gauze around my hand again.

"Don't worry about it. This is nothing," I assured him. "I've had worse. I'm a trouble magnet, remember?"

He chuckled softly and smiled. I realized he didn't release his hold, and his eyes continued to study my hand; maybe he wondered if he'd ever see it uninjured. It always seemed to be wrapped in something whenever he saw me. His eyes went to the scar on the inside of my arm, then, and he dragged his forefinger along the uneven, pale ridge. There was something utterly tender about the touch. It made me shiver.

"What happened here?" he asked gently and looked at me. I realized he had probably been wondering about the scar that night, when he'd been fixing me up. I avoided his eyes, gently pulling my hand away from his grasp.

"I fell on broken glass," I answered. It wasn't exactly a lie. For some reason, I found it difficult to tell him what had really happened – that I hadn't just fallen, but I'd been pushed.

I saw him narrow his eyes; he clearly noticed I'd left something out, but he didn't ask about it. I was relieved when he changed the subject and inquired if I had any of those non-stick gauze pads at home. I hesitated, realizing I wasn't sure – I had never needed those before.

"There might be some in the first-aid kit I have," I murmured, hesitating. He noticed my uncertainty.

"Would you let me drive you to the pharmacy, just to be sure? You'll have to change the dressing at least once or twice a day, so it's a good thing to have a pack of these on hand."

"I can get them tomorrow. I mean, I'm sure you have other places to be. I don't want to be a bother."

He smiled. "It wouldn't be a bother. And besides, I have nowhere else to be. I came here to see you, because I wanted to talk to you. I can drive you home, after we stop by at the pharmacy."

I relented. I didn't want to admit to myself that I wanted to prolong my time with him. I was also anxious to hear what he had to say – anxious, but also kind of worried.

We stopped by the pharmacy on our way, and about ten minutes later, as Carlisle was driving towards my apartment, I realized it wasn't the first time I had felt like this in his company. Practically every time I had been spending time with him, I had thought, even believed, it would be the last time I would see him. It was like I was constantly ready to say goodbye, or at least trying to be ready. But I wasn't ready.

As I turned to look at him, I realized I might never be.

Maybe he sensed my thoughts, or maybe I looked sad, but as he pulled into the parking lot of my building, a worried frown crinkled his brow. "What is it?" he asked.

I shook my head, giving him a smile. Instead of answering, I asked, "Would you like to come in?" If he was going to walk away from me, we might as well do this indoors instead of his car.

He nodded after a short moment of hesitation. I got out, grabbing the small bag I'd gotten from the pharmacy, and at the last moment, I remembered to take my umbrella from the floor of the car, pleased that I hadn't needed it today.

As I led Carlisle to the door of my apartment, I wondered idly what he would think about my place. My dwelling must have looked quite modest compared to his large house. I shrugged inwardly at the thought as I unlocked the door and let us in. I led him into the kitchen, suddenly glad I'd cleaned the apartment yesterday morning.

"How long have you lived here?" he asked, looking around him.

"About a year." I pulled up a chair from the table. "Sit down."

He did as I said – a part of me had expected him to decline and say it wasn't his intention to stay. I took a seat opposite of him, gauging his expression and trying to figure out what was going on in his head.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked. "Coffee, water, juice...?"

He shook his head, and a sudden smile broke onto his face.

"What?" I asked, wondering if I'd said something funny.

"Nothing. It just that...well, that one day, you said I'm a doctor, heart and soul, but you seem to be a waitress, no matter where you are."

I gave a soft laugh. "I bring work home, I guess."

His eyes danced. I realized I'd rarely seen him like this before, without that constant shadow of sorrow that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He dropped his gaze to the table between us, before lifting it again.

Then, something behind me on the counter caught his interest, and his smile fell. I turned to look over my shoulder, wondering if there was a huge spider in my kitchen or something. But there was nothing else on the countertop besides a bottle of vodka – I'd bought it for Rosalie a couple of days ago as a joke.

I turned to look at Carlisle again, gauging his expression. "That's just for cuts and scrapes," I jested, wondering why he was looking at the bottle like it might bite.

He gave a soft, forced laugh and frowned. "Right. Of course."

I studied him, trying to read his expression. It was difficult. "Actually, that's not for me at all. It's for Rosalie and her boyfriend. We had this inside joke about having a bottle of vodka lying around, and how two people who are in a relationship begin to remind each other..." I trailed off, as I realized I was rambling. I still wondered why he had reacted the way he had. "Anyway. It's a silly story. Like I said, I thought I'd give it to her as a joke."

"So...you don't drink?" he asked, his eyes unreadable.

I shook my head. "Not really. It's not my thing. I got over the partying phase in high school." Did I only imagine it, or did he seem...relieved? "What about you?"

He shook his head. "No, Bella. I don't drink." There was an odd hardness in his voice I'd never heard before.

I didn't know how to react to that. I just regarded him closely, waiting patiently, until he met my gaze again.

"Well, isn't this nice," I said lightly, smiling. "We're learning things about each other. I don't drink, you don't drink...it's like a match made in heaven."

He laughed softly, and he looked oddly relieved again. It was like he had momentarily disappeared into some dark place, and my words had brought him back.

"Who knows," he murmured quietly, smiling softly, "Maybe we have other things in common as well."

"Maybe." I leaned forward, placing my arms on the table. "Does that mean... Well, have you thought about what I said the other day?"

"Almost constantly," he confessed quietly. His eyes...they were so intense. "You, and your words...they've been in my thoughts all the time for these past two days."

"And how do you feel about...everything I said?"

He raked a hand through his hair. "I don't know, to be honest. I..." he blew out a slow breath,"I meant what I told you two days ago. I really like you, Bella. And that's exactly why I feel so uncertain about all this. You're such a sweet girl. What if...what if this doesn't work out?" His eyes were suddenly tormented. "What if we don't know what we're signing up for? What if I end up...hurting you in some way?"

"What makes you so sure it's me who gets hurt here?" I asked, giving a soft, confused laugh. "How can you be so sure _I'm_ not the heartbreaker here? I might be a horrible, nymphomaniac man-eater, and you don't have a clue. Well, not yet, at least."

A smile tugged at Carlisle's lips. "Are you, then? A man-eater? Or a nympho?"

"Well, _no_."

He chuckled. He stared at the table between us for a moment, before raising his gaze again. "Have you had those types of relationships before? I mean, casual relationships?"

I shrugged. "I dated a few guys in high school more or less casually. And you know what high school dating sometimes is, anyway."

"What about your other relationships?"

"You mean if I've ever had a serious, committed relationship?"

He nodded.

"Well, when I was in college, I was with someone for over a year. And, uh..." I hesitated, "My last serious relationship ended about a year ago. I was with him for two years. We even lived together."

He nodded again. "I see."

"What about you?" I asked, studying his expression. It was something like guarded or reserved. "You told me your relationships are usually less serious. And you told me you've tried to change that."

He let out a quiet breath. "That's right."

"Does it mean you'd like to have a long, committed relationship one day? Or do you always want to keep things light?"

A small frown crinkled his brow; there was distress in his eyes. "I just...I usually find myself with women who are not looking for anything serious. I suppose I'd like to be committed, yes. But I feel...I feel it's not for me. Not...not anymore."

I wanted to ask why, but I knew he wouldn't answer. I'd asked something similar two days ago, and he had said he wasn't ready to talk about it. That he might never be. I studied his face, trying to read the expression in his eyes. It wasn't sad like it sometimes was. It was just...bleak. Empty.

"So...it hasn't always been this way?" I asked carefully. "You used to feel differently about this at some point in your life?"

He stared at the table between us, staying silent for a long time before answering. His voice was forcibly calm when he spoke. "No. It hasn't always been this way. And yes, I once used to feel differently about this matter."

"But something changed?"

He looked up, then, meeting my gaze, and he swallowed thickly before answering. "Everything changed," he whispered.

The look in his eyes...it was like watching someone who was about to die or drown or burn alive, or all those three things at once. Without even realizing it, I reached over the table to take his hand. I squeezed his fingers gently in a poor attempt to offer him comfort.

I now knew; the person who had left him, the person he had lost...he had loved her. So much so it kind of frightened me.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, "for whatever happened. And I'm sorry for asking. I mean...maybe I shouldn't have." I thought about the moment in front of the café, when he had asked about my scar, and how I hadn't been able to tell him about James. Therefore, I couldn't really blame him for keeping some things from me.

Sometimes, it was better to leave some scars alone.

He shook his head at my words. "You have the right to ask, of course. There are just some things I find hard, if not impossible, to talk about. I hope you understand."

"I do. Or I try to, at least."

He gave me a familiar-looking sad smile. I realized I was still holding his hand, and I released his fingers, about to pull away. But he caught my fingers, refusing to let go. Since it was my bandaged hand, his hold was gentle, tender. After a while, he brought up his other hand onto the table as well, beginning to draw idle patterns on the skin of my wrist. The touch made me shiver.

"Can I ask you something else?" I asked quietly.

He nodded, continuing to caress my hand. I tried to focus; even those innocent touches made me feel as if there was lava under skin.

"That woman I saw at the restaurant," I began hesitantly, flicking him a gaze. "Kate, was it? What happened with her? I mean, did she leave you, or did you leave her?"

He searched for words for a moment. "Parting ways was a mutual decision, in the end," he murmured. "But to be entirely honest, she brought it up. She wanted to settle down and have a large family, and I...well, I couldn't give her what she wanted."

"So, you don't want to settle down, then? Or is it a family you don't want?"

He hesitated. "In a way, I feel like I have settled down. But maybe it's more about me being set in my ways and knowing I'll never change. As for having a family..." he paused, staring at the table between us again, "Well, most of the time, I feel like...like I've got my hands full with myself. Starting a family with someone...it's something I haven't been able to even consider for years."

I nodded, surprised he was being so open about his answer. His next words, however, surprised me even more.

"What about you, Bella?" he asked, his blue eyes both curious and sorrowful. "Do you dream about those things? Settling down? Family and children?"

I had to think about that for a moment. "I haven't thought about that very much, to be honest. I was an only child myself, so I've never been around kids very much. They've always seemed like foreign creatures to me," I explained, giving a soft laugh. "But I don't know. I'm not absolutely opposed to the thought of having children one day. I'm sure parenthood must be wonderful and incredibly rewarding. I guess I'm open to getting to experience it myself one day. Maybe I will, maybe I won't."

His smile was sad again. "I truly hope you will." I couldn't read the emotion in his eyes. It was like he was happy and sorrowful and hopeful, all at the same time.

"But like I said the other day," I murmured, giving him a soft smile, "I've lately felt like I'm a little lost. A while ago, I gave this big speech to Rosalie about needing to spend some time alone to discover myself again. So, maybe I don't know what, exactly, I want out of life. But it's fine, isn't it? Everyone feels a little lost every now and then."

He nodded, frowning slightly. "That I can agree with."

I gave him a curious look. "Do you ever feel lost, Carlisle?"

He gave a quiet, joyless laugh. "Most of the time."

"And what helps you to feel like you're not so lost anymore?" I asked softly. "Your nightly walks in the rain?"

He smiled, giving a low chuckle. "Perhaps. And..." he hesitated, giving my fingers a gentle squeeze, "Well, I suppose it helps to run into a beautiful brown-haired stranger every now and then."

"Let me guess – you'll have to jump-start this stranger's truck, and the next time you see her, you have to consider taking her to the ER before she bleeds to death."

"Something like that."

"She sounds like a handful." His soft chuckle and the glimmer in his eyes made me smile. "Are you sure you can handle all that drama she might cause?"

"I'm rather...confident." The smile on his lips did funny things to me. As he rose from his seat, releasing my hand and closing the short distance between us with two slow steps, I felt as if I had lost all feeling in my legs. He offered me his hand, and I took it, letting him pull me up from the chair. Maybe he knew how his closeness affected me. Maybe he knew my legs felt all wobbly and weak. Maybe that was the reason why he was pulling me to him, why his hands went to my waist and drew me even closer to his solid, tall frame.

Or maybe he didn't know. Maybe he just wanted me close.

His breath was warm against my face. I just wanted him to kiss me, like he had two days ago. I wanted that same impatience, that same, undisguised passion, that same pure desire. But when he just kept looking at me, his blue eyes taking a darker tone, it was me who got impatient. I reached up and clasped my hands behind his neck, barely noticing the uncomfortable sting of my burned thumb, as my fingers played with the ends of his silky hair. Rising to my tiptoes and diving my fingers into his soft locks, I tipped his head forward and pressed my lips to his. Sweetly, tenderly. My kiss was soft, tentative, just a gentle exploration.

But his response...there was nothing tentative or gentle about his response.

As soon as my lips brushed his, I heard him breathe out violently, like someone had punched him in the stomach, like his lungs could only remember how to breathe out and nothing else. His hands tightened on my waist, and his lips began to assault mine with a surprising force.

And then, it was me sighing and moaning against his mouth, unable to remember how to breathe in, and I was gone, gone, gone, unaware of everything else but Carlisle's soft lips caressing mine and the hard planes of his body pressing against me.

My hands were no longer caressing the hair at his neck; they were everywhere, desperately searching for something, for a way to get him even closer to me. I needed to feel him, needed to know how his bare skin felt against my palms; I felt like I might not survive another second if I didn't, as melodramatic as that sounded.

It was hard to focus, though. As his mouth left mine, and his lips began to attack my throat with intense need, all I could comprehend was the way my body reacted to his lightest of touches. My every muscle was humming with tension, and my heart was beating against my ribcage like a jackhammer.

I suddenly realized I was pressed up against something – maybe it was the wall, the floor, the counter, the table, I didn't know. All I knew was we had moved – had he lifted me? _When_? – and I felt something cool and hard pressing against my back.

It was a wall, after all – my kitchen wall, to be precise – but I only knew this, because I opened my eyes. I couldn't even tell when I had closed them. Carlisle's lips were no longer caressing my skin, and it had obviously caught my attention.

He was still pressing against me, holding me impossibly close. His hands came to frame my face, and the look in his darkened blue eyes was desperate, like he was struggling to control himself. He took a small step back, and I felt instantly empty, as our bodies parted.

"Bella," he whispered, his voice husky and breathless, "Tell me to stop now, and I will. If we're making a mistake – if you don't want this to happen..."

I silenced him with a soft kiss. He moaned quietly against my mouth. "I want this to happen," I whispered, as I pulled back, "But only if you want this as badly as I."

He squeezed his eyes closed. "You have no idea how much. But if...if it turns out that we...Bella...if I end up letting you down..."

"Shh." I brought a finger on his lips. "Remember what I said. Those who don't search for anything are harder to disappoint. Stop worrying. I _want_ to be with you. I just...let's just take it one day at a time, okay? We don't have to make this anything complicated if you don't want to. If you're not ready. Let's just...let's just take one moment at a time and see where it goes. No pressure. I promise."

It sounded like he was trying to regulate his breathing. His eyes bored into mine. His desperate, uncertain eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Bella...I'd hate it if you one day came to regret this..."

I silenced him with another kiss. "I could never regret this. I like you, Carlisle. I _want_ to be with you. I _want_ you."

"This is crazy," he murmured against my mouth. His hands were now back on my waist, sliding down, before beginning to knead my hips nearly painfully. His fingers curled and flexed, like he wasn't in control of their movements. "Bella...this is not wise. I mean it."

"Maybe this is crazy," I granted, diving my fingers into his hair again. "Maybe it's not wise. Maybe we'll get battered and bruised if we do this. But bruises heal, don't they? My point is, as long as this feels right, we're doing nothing wrong. And I know I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I walked away from you now. I'd never find peace with myself."

"God, neither would I," he answered. My eyes rolled back in my head, as he dipped his head into my neck, and a loud moan escaped my mouth, as he latched his lips onto my pulse point. I wondered if that would leave a mark – I really, really wouldn't mind.

When Carlisle pulled back to see my face again, his eyes were wild with need. "Bella, if you're sure...if you're _absolutely_ sure..."

"I am. Stop worrying. Remember...let's just take it a day at a time. Just stay with me. I want you, Carlisle. Don't you want me?"

He slammed his eyes shut. "Christ... You have no idea how much, Bella. _No_ idea."

"I think I do." Giving him a teasing smile, I pressed closer to him, so our hips were touching. Then, I eased my hand between our bodies to stroke him through his clothes. As my hand palmed his hardness through the fabric, his eyes slammed shut again, and he actually bucked against my touch, letting out a low, guttural groan.

"God Almighty," he moaned, his lips claiming mine again. I felt the rapid rise and fall of his chest against mine, as he kept kissing me with even more intensity. My other hand joined the first, and I somehow managed to gather enough focus to undo the buckle of his belt, and then my trembling fingers began to work on the button and zipper of his pants. I just needed to touch him, I literally felt like I might die if I didn't get to feel him against my skin right now.

As I slid my hand under the elastic of his boxers, and as my fingers wrapped around him, he pulled away from my lips to suck in a sharp breath. I explored his length with my fingers, gripping him firmly, before circling the head gently. When I did that, Carlisle hissed loudly, his hips giving another involuntary thrust.

"Bella...Bella, please..." He couldn't seem to get a word out of his mouth. His head dropped to my shoulder, and he groaned quietly.

"What is it, Carlisle?" I whispered in his ear and managed to surprise myself. I wasn't normally very vocal – let alone verbal – in these situations, so I was a little shocked at my own behaviour. I kept talking while I stroked him as firmly as his clothes would allow. "What do you want? Is this for me? Do I make you feel this way?"

"Christ," he breathed, lifting his head from my shoulder. His hand grabbed my wrist, and he tried to put a to stop my intimate caress. I teased him a moment more before withdrawing my hand, and as soon as I did, I suddenly realized the floor had disappeared from under me.

"Where's your bedroom?" I heard him murmur a moment before he claimed my lips again. I had to force myself to focus and think. Where was my bedroom? Where did I live? What was my name?

"There...the door on the right...no, the other one..." I managed to say between kisses. I heard him fumble for the handle, and somehow, he managed to work the door open while he held me in his arms and kept kissing me senseless.

I briefly thanked myself for making the bed this morning, despite the fact that I had been in a hurry to leave for work. Not that an unmade bed would have mattered – a hurricane could have gone through the room, and we wouldn't have noticed. As soon as Carlisle placed me on the bed, his hands were everywhere, tugging at my clothes, ripping open zippers and buttons so urgently, it was a wonder he didn't tear anything. I heard quiet thuds as my shoes dropped to the floor, and after a moment, his followed suit. There was impatience in his every movement, especially when he pulled off my jeans, but as he tugged my sweater off a moment later, he was very careful, remembering my injured hand. It was odd, because I myself couldn't remember the whole thing. The small burn on my hand had nothing on the burn inside me.

When my sweater was finally off, I sat up on the bed and cursed inwardly, because Carlisle's shirt had too many buttons. With trembling fingers, I undid them one by one and anxiously pushed the shirt off his shoulders. As I ran my fingers over his toned stomach, I noticed a slight tremble went through him at my touch. The light sprinkling of hair on his chest tickled my palms, making me now fully realize it wasn't a young boy leaning over me, but a man. The thought made my insides pool with heat.

As he kissed me deeply and reached behind me to unclasp my bra, I felt a small prickle of uncertainty. If I had any insecurities, this was it. But as Carlisle's fingers dragged the straps of my bra off my shoulders and peeled the fabric away from my breasts, and as he pulled away from my lips to look at me, I only felt wanted. He pulled me into a hungry kiss, before gently pushing me down onto the bed.

I moaned against his mouth as I felt his hands caress my breasts. As he began to rub and tweak my nipples, pinching them into hard peaks, my head began to spin deliciously. As his mouth left mine, and his lips joined his hands, everything went black. An incoherent moan left my throat, as I felt him suck a nipple into his mouth, his warm tongue swirling around it.

"Oh my – " I tore my eyes open and cried out – loudly – as his hand suddenly traveled down my body and caressed me through my underwear. "Carlisle...Carlisle, please..."

He moaned quietly as a response. His mouth abandoned my breast, and as he pulled away to look at me, sitting back on his heels, I realized I had never seen anything so... hot. There really was no other word for it. He was sensuality personified.

His bare upper body was lean but muscular, and my eyes drank him in as if to memorize the curves and angles of his body. He looked like he had been carved by a sculptor, until every small detail was pure perfection. His blonde hair was no longer neat and swept-back; it was tousled and messy, and I'd suppose I had to take the blame for that.

I realized Carlisle was studying me the same way I was watching him. He was breathing heavily, as his eyes roamed my nearly naked form, and then his warm hands went to my hips, his fingers hooking on the waistband on my panties. He leaned forward to kiss the valley between my breasts before pulling back again. Slowly, he began to drag down my underwear, and I actually growled, when he stopped and began to caress the outside of my hips with the tips of his fingers.

"Carlisle..."

He chuckled low and deep in a sensual manner. "I must tell you, Bella, that when I came to see you at the café that one day, and when I saw you in those black, tight pants and in that red, tiny apron..." He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. His dragged down my panties an inch or two before stopping again.

"And what did...what did...what were you thinking?" I stuttered, barely able to pull enough air into my lungs to form a complete sentence. "What did you...want to do?"

He leaned down towards me again, capturing a nipple in his mouth. A wanton moan left my throat, as he gently nibbled it with his teeth. My chest was heaving, when he finally released the hardened peak, and suddenly, I felt his hot breath in my ear. "To be entirely honest, Bella, I just wanted to bend you over the table and take you right there."

"Oh, my God..." Just hearing him talk like that had me on the edge. What would happen when he was actually _touching_ me?

He dragged my panties down one more inch, and I almost cried when I thought he would keep teasing me. Maybe he noticed my reaction – I heard him chuckle darkly, and then I felt him pull my panties down my legs and off in one smooth movement. He didn't waste any time. His hand was instantly cupping my wet entrance, and his fingers began to explore my excited flesh. His touch made my breath hitch and my toes curl.

My hands went into my hair, because I felt like I needed _something_ to hold onto to keep myself from going crazy. His intimate touch made the ache inside me threaten to explode. But then, his hand was gone, and as I felt him pull back, grabbing my thighs and bending my legs, I was just a heaving, groaning mess. Something between a cry and a moan left my lips, as I felt him blow gently against my wet folds. The sensation was so sudden, so intense, and I didn't know how to deal with it. It was just too damn _much_. Was he trying to _kill_ me?

My thighs began to tremble, and I was torn between wanting to close them and spread them even more open, but I had no time to decide what to do, because the touch was back again. His finger began to circle the sensitive nub at the apex on my thighs, delicately and slowly, and I had to tear my hands from my hair, because there was pain in my scalp. I grabbed the bed covers instead, my back arching off the bed slightly, as he added a finger and began to play with my entrance.

"My God, you're so wet, Bella. Is this for me? Are you this wet for me?" His husky words nearly made me come apart.

"Yes, Carlisle, please. I need...I need you inside me, please..." Forming words seemed an impossible task. He spent a moment more teasing my sensitive flesh, and then, he withdrew his hand. I heard fabric rustling, as he got rid of his pants and boxers. My mouth went dry as I finally saw him – all of him – and I was vaguely aware of him taking something from the pocket of his pants, before throwing them on the floor. As he turned to me again, I noticed it was a condom. I almost told him I had a copper coil, but I didn't want to waste time asking if he'd been tested. As he sat back on his heels and quickly tore the wrapping – with his teeth! – his eyes never left mine. My breath caught at the sight. His eyes...there was just bare, raw desire in their dark, blue depths.

I sat up and took the condom from him; I was desperate to explore him like he had explored me. I pressed a hand on his chest, wordlessly urging him to lie down, and he complied, his gaze still holding mine. I leaned over him, and a small grunt escaped his mouth as my hand found him. I gripped his hard length firmly, giving it a slow, sensual stroke, before gathering the drop of fluid leaking from the tip. His hips gave a sharp jerk, and a low groan left his throat – the sound went straight to my center, making my insides clench wonderfully. As I continued to stroke him, the muscles of his lower stomach began to tense, and when his thighs began to tremble, I brought the condom to the tip and rolled it down his length. As soon as I had done that, his hands were gripping my wrists, and he was pushing me down against the bed, covering my body with his.

"You're such a tease, Bella Swan," he whispered into my ear, before sucking at my lobe softly with his mouth. "You make me feel like a green, young boy. Do you know what I mean?" His erection was pressing against my stomach, and his hips gave a small jerk, as if to punctuate his words. All that made my head spin, and I felt like I was no longer in control of my movements; my back arched off the bed again as I craved the friction he refused to give.

"Why don't you show me?" I managed to pant, and then I heard myself whimper deep in my throat, as I felt the tip of his hardness slide against my slick folds. "Carlisle! Yes..."

"Is this what you want, Bella?" he whispered in a low, guttural tone. His breath was hot and fast against my neck. My eyes rolled back in my head, as he kept sliding himself against my sensitive flesh.

"Yes! I want you inside me...Carlisle...please..." I wrapped my legs around him, trying to force him closer. As he pressed against my entrance, his breath rushed out in a loud moan. He pulled back to look at me, cradling my head with his hand, while the other went to my thigh, sliding down my leg. My eyes slammed shut, as he hooked his arm behind my knee and lifted it to his hip almost roughly.

"Open your eyes." It wasn't a request – it was a demand. I did as he said – not that I had a choice – and a violent tremble went through me as he aligned himself, pushing himself inside me with one long, slow stroke. My back arched to meet him, and I grasped the bed covers with my hands, letting out a strangled cry as he filled me.

"Oh my...Carlisle! Yes!" I was panting and trying to move my hips, trying to make him _move_ , but he stayed completely still, his other hand palming my hip to stop my movements. His face dropped to my neck, and he groaned quietly. I felt his chest rising and falling against mine; he was clearly struggling to regulate his breathing.

"Incredible," he sighed against my skin. "Christ, Bella...you're so warm..."

My hands went to tangle in his hair, pulling his soft, blond locks almost roughly, and I barely noticed the pain of my burned thumb, as I clung to him. He lifted his head from my neck and kissed me hungrily, and at the same time, his hips gave a hard, quick thrust. I locked my ankles at his waist, urging him on.

I knew this wasn't going to be gentle or sensual or slow. This was going to be an explosion of need and want and desire...and _despair_. It was in every motion of his hips, as he thrust into me, and it was in my every moan and sigh, as I felt him fill me time and time again. It was hard and urgent and uncontrolled, and I couldn't get enough.

I dug my fingers into his shoulders, as he kept driving into me, and I wondered if my nails left marks on his skin. If I was hurting him, at least he didn't seem to mind. He only groaned into my mouth, as he kept slamming his hips into mine, driving me higher and higher, and the desperate coil deep in my stomach grew tighter with each thrust, with each loud moan that left his lips. I was only vaguely aware of the incoherent stream of moans and whimpers coming out of my mouth, as that coil eventually snapped, sending sweet, intense spasms through me.

Lights and sparks flared behind my eyes as I fell apart, Carlisle's name leaving my lips in a soft, breathy cry. My ears were ringing, and I felt like every muscle in my body was twitching and trembling. The pleasure rippling through me was intensified by the feeling of Carlisle's lips assaulting my neck. His breathing was suddenly labored and uneven, his moans turning into loud gasps and grunts. His movements became erratic and uncoordinated, before his hips gave one final uneven thrust, as he finally reached his peak. His breathing was hard and fast, as he fell on top of me, and I noticed his arms were actually trembling as he tried to hold his weight and keep himself from crushing me under him. He rolled us onto our sides, still holding my body to his, like even the thought of parting from me was impossible.

For a while, we just lay there and clung to each other, trying to catch our breath. Trying to come down from somewhere that was so high, that a place like that shouldn't even exist.

"My God, Bella..." he kept murmuring against my neck, his voice shaky and almost frail. "Amazing."

If one could die from pleasure...well, I certainly felt like our bodies were close to reaching their critical point. Our chests were still heaving for air, and my heart kept hammering in my chest, like it might break right through my ribs. If pleasure didn't kill me, _that_ certainly would.

I thought idly that, if I was now living my last moments, being tangled up with Carlisle so intimately certainly was a good way to go.


	7. Sleepless

_**"Nothing haunts us like the things we don't say."**_

\- Mitch Albom -

* * *

 **Sleepless**

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

My question was quiet, just a hushed whisper. As Carlisle turned to look at me, I was surprised by the sudden tenderness in his eyes. There was uncertainty in them as well, and he clearly hesitated for a moment before answering.

"I don't know. Do you want me to stay?" he asked, turning onto his side and propping his head on his hand. He reached out to take a lock of my hair in his fingers, bringing it to my lips. It tickled.

"Of course, I want you to stay," I murmured. "But only if _you_ want to stay. It's not like I'm going to tie you to the bed or anything."

He blinked at my words, his eyes suddenly unfocused.

I chuckled. "Okay. I just heard what I said, and I realized what it sounded like. I always say something stupid, when I try to be cheeky."

He drew in a shallow, slow breath. "You know, it's not at all stupid, what you just said. Actually..." he leaned down to press a soft kiss on my lips, his hand beginning to peel back the bed covers, "I wouldn't mind at all if a pretty woman like you tied me to the bed. I'd find it rather...pleasant."

I giggled. "I'll keep that in mind."

He smiled. His fingers began to draw idle patterns on my bare shoulder. "So," he leaned down to nuzzle my neck, "You really wouldn't mind if I stayed?"

"Of course not." I shivered as his lips pressed against my pulse point.

"Well, in that case...I'd love to stay. I have to get up early, though. I need to pick up some papers from my house, and I have a few things to take care of before my first class."

"Were you supposed to be doing those things tonight?" I asked. "Did I ruin your busy schedule, Dr. Cullen?"

He pulled back to look at me, easing the covers away from my bare chest. His warm fingers stroked over my stomach and ribs. "You didn't ruin anything," he answered with a small smile. "Quite the opposite. You made this day worth living."

I rolled my eyes. "Now, you're just exaggerating."

He shook his head, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "Believe me, Bella. I'm not."

I heaved out a shallow breath as his fingers traveled from my ribs to my other breast, and then I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning as his thumb circled my nipple. Despite the pleasure his tender caress was giving me, I began to feel slightly self-conscious under his heated gaze. He was studying my bare body, like he was trying to memorize every curve and dip, his eyes following what his hands were doing. As he moved his fingers to my other breast, giving it the same, gentle attention, he caught my eye.

"What is it?" he asked softly, apparently noticing the uncertainty in my eyes. "Does this bother you?"

I shook my head. "No, I mean...it feels nice." I hesitated. "I just have this small complex, that's all. About..."

"Your breasts?" he supplied, frowning confusedly. "Why on earth?"

I chuckled self-consciously. "No reason. They're just so tiny, that's all."

He shook his head. "Tiny? That's absurd. I know this sounds like a huge cliché, but I'm being honest when I say you're perfect just the way you are. And these breasts..." He shook his head again and actually licked his lips. That sight...it should have been illegal. "Why would you feel like that about yourself?" he asked, his voice gentle. "Have you always thought this way?"

I shook my head, hesitating. "No, not always. It's just...well, it's just something my ex said. It stuck with me for some reason. It's stupid, I know."

His eyes darkened. "Your ex-boyfriend said your breasts are too small?"

I shrugged. "Kind of. He made it sound like he was just trying to be funny and make this seemingly innocuous joke about it. And then, he wondered why it bothered me. He said I was being too sensitive, and I had no sense of humor."

Carlisle blew out a slow breath and shook his head. He was silent for a long moment. "No offense, Bella, but this ex-boyfriend of yours sounds like an incurable idiot."

I chuckled. "No offense taken, believe me. There's a reason why he became an ex."

"I applaud you for that decision. Even more so because now _I'm_ the one who gets to do this." He leaned down and captured my nipple in his mouth. A moan welled up in my throat, as his tongue swirled around it in slow, torturous circles.

"Carlisle..." My fingers dove into his hair. "Oh, my...keep that up and we'll never leave this bed."

He hummed low and deep in his throat, his teeth closing around the hard bud and tugging gently. He continued his torture for a while, and by the time he stopped and drew back, I was breathing heavily. He shifted, crawling over me to press a soft kiss on my mouth, while his hand palmed my other breast.

"Truly, Bella," he murmured against my mouth. "Your breasts could bring a man to his knees. Do you believe me?"

"Uh huh," I managed to moan. He could say anything he wanted, and I'd agree.

"Good." He began to pull back, but I wrapped an arm behind his shoulders and held him to me. My other hand began to travel down his body, and he moaned quietly, squeezing his eyes closed, as my fingers wrapped around him. I was surprised when he grabbed my wrist gently and pulled my hand away. Opening his eyes, he brought my knuckles to his lips, giving me an apologetic glance. "Bella, if you keep going, I'm afraid I'll lose all reason."

"I won't mind," I answered, wondering why he had stopped me.

He looked almost embarrassed. "The thing is...well, I don't have anything with me. I only had one condom."

"Oh." I gave him sly smile and eased my hand from his gentle grasp. He hissed as my hand found him again. "That's not a problem," I whispered.

His pupils dilated visibly. "Do you mean...are you on the pill?"

I shook my head. "I can't use anything hormonal because of my migraines. But I have a copper coil."

"You do?"

I nodded, biting my lip and smiling.

He chuckled softly. "How come you didn't say something before?"

I shrugged. "Talking would've taken too much time and focus."

"I see." He nuzzled my neck with his nose. "Have you been tested?"

I nodded. "I'm clean."

He hummed softly against my skin. "You know what? So am I."

"Mmmm. Interesting."

He chuckled again. I moaned quietly as he captured my lips in a searing kiss, and then...

My stomach growled loudly. He pulled away and began to laugh – I realized I had never heard him laugh like that before. The sound was intriguing, wonderful. I had no time to focus on that, though. I was busy pulling the bed covers over me and trying to hide under them. My cheeks were flaming.

He pulled the covers away, smiling widely at me. "I'm terribly sorry. I've been neglecting your other needs." He placed a tender kiss on my mouth before drawing back again. "May I prepare you dinner, my beautiful Bella?"

Smiling at the unexpected endearment, I gave a glance at the clock. Our tumble in the sheets in the afternoon had messed up my sense of time. "You can cook?"

He shrugged. "A little bit. I live alone, after all. I have to feed myself, and eating out every day would get boring."

"Okay. I have to tell you, though, that I only have things like eggs and vegetables. I'll have to make a grocery run tomorrow."

He assured me eggs and vegetables were just fine. We got up and began to gather our clothes, and as Carlisle was pulling on his pants, I snatched his pale blue shirt from the floor and put it on.

"Do you mind if I borrow this?" I asked him, quirking an eyebrow at him. He smiled.

"Not at all. It suits you very well."

I chuckled at his expression as I began to button up the shirt. He swallowed and closed his eyes, like he was struggling to keep himself under control. As I bent down to pick up my panties from the floor, doing so very slowly, I heard him groan quietly behind me. Smiling to myself and pretending I didn't notice his reaction, I pulled them on, once again very slowly, and when I straightened myself, a strong arm wrapped around me from behind.

"If you keep that up, Bella, you're not going to get dinner," he whispered in my ear, pulling me against his chest. I wondered if it was a threat or a promise. I shivered at the roughness of his voice. For these few short weeks I'd known him, he had been all gentleman. But in the bedroom...in the bedroom, he seemed to be bold and forward. I liked it.

His fingers began to undo the few buttons I had just fastened. He slipped his hand under the shirt, running the tips of his fingers across my stomach.

"But I'm so hungry," I answered, pretending to pout.

"Not hungry enough, apparently." My spine prickled, as I felt his lips on my neck. As his hand slipped down to the waistband of my panties, my stomach growled again. I felt his chest shake with quiet laughter, and then he closed the buttons of the shirt. "Alright. Dinner first."

As I led him to the kitchen, his gaze was like a physical touch. I was suddenly very glad I had stolen his shirt, since this meant he was half-naked. I had never had a man cook me dinner before, half-naked or otherwise.

I began to go through the fridge and cupboards, taking out eggs, bread and tomatoes. Carlisle asked where I kept the knives, and I pointed him toward the drawer. I apologized for my boring ingredients, but he just shook his head and smiled.

"How does a tomato omelet sound?" he asked.

"Perfect. Can I help?"

"Not under any circumstances. You just sit down and take it easy. You serve and wait tables for a living. It's about time someone returned the favor."

I relented, thinking to myself that this was very sweet of him. I sat down at the table, but I got up almost instantly. "Can I at least set the table? Please?"

" _No_. Honestly, Bella, don't make me tie you to that chair."

I chuckled and sat down again. Propping my chin on my hand, I just watched him move about my small kitchen. Every once in a while, he asked me where I kept things, like pans and spatulas, and I answered dutifully, though I was tempted to see if he might make good on his earlier threat if I got up.

Around the time he began to chop the tomatoes, I began to wonder if he worked out – his shoulders, arms and back were toned and muscular, flexing with each movement he made. Maybe he sensed my intense gaze, because he turned to look at me after a while. Almost immediately, his eyes dipped lower – I had opened the top few buttons of the shirt.

He stopped what he was doing, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. Slowly, he placed the knife on the counter and drew in a deep breath. Then, his face took on a determined expression, and he turned away, almost like he had to force himself to face away from me. "You know, Bella, this short time I've known you, you've appeared to be so innocent and doe-eyed, and now..." he shook his head, "I should've known underneath there was a minx waiting to get out."

I chuckled. "Blame yourself. You kind of brought it out of me."

He pretended not to hear what I said. He just began to chop the tomatoes again, spreading them on the hot pan he had placed on the stove a moment ago. Then, he proceeded to beat the eggs, throwing a quick look over his shoulder, maybe to see if I was still watching him. Of course, I was.

The omelet he made was delicious. As we ate, talking idly about everything and nothing, I found myself wondering why he seemed to be against serious relationships, why he felt like commitment wasn't for him. He seemed to be enjoying himself, after all. Any other man who was just after sex and nothing more would have been out the door by now. But Carlisle had wanted to stay – or at least it seemed like it. I had no way of knowing what was going on in his head, after all. It was possible, when he'd leave tomorrow, I might not hear from him again.

I had to remind myself I was the one who had said we should take it one moment at a time and see where this would go. Carlisle was here now, and that was all I could ask for. I was the one who had suggested we keep this casual. And if it turned out he'd lose interest now that we'd slept together, well...there was nothing I could do about it. I'd deal with it if I had to. _When_ I had to.

I tried to search myself, wondering if I was really as nonchalant about this as I appeared to be. I liked him, this I knew. But did I like him too much? Already?

Maybe.

After we had eaten, I suggested that, since he had cooked, I would do the dishes. Carlisle refused to hear of it. He gave a pointed glance at my bandaged hand.

"It doesn't even hurt," I told him.

"It will tomorrow. And besides, you should keep it dry for now. Warm water will only irritate it. And if the burn blisters, remember not touch it. It could cause an infection."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine, Dr. Cullen."

"You're not a very good patient, Ms. Swan."

"That's weird. I've had a lot practice over the years, after all." I grabbed a kitchen towel from the counter. "Fine. You wash, I'll dry."

It surprised me how...easy this was. When I was in Carlisle's company, I had this strange feeling, as if I had spent a long time with him, like I'd known him for years, instead of just a few weeks. Like this upcoming night we were going to spend together wouldn't be our first, but our hundredth or thousandth.

Maybe it was the romantic in me talking.

I wondered if he was feeling the same. Or maybe he was just happy he had come across someone who wasn't expecting commitment from him. Was that why he seemed to be so at ease in my company, why he was so relaxed? Because I didn't have any expectations?

I was suddenly anxious to distract myself from these thoughts. After I had put our plates and glasses in the cupboard, I turned to him. He was drying his hands, but I noticed he was observing me closely. I went to him, running the tips of my fingers along his bare, muscular arms.

"Can I tempt you to take a shower with me?" I asked.

He closed his eyes and hummed quietly. "I'm already tempted. However," he took my bandaged hand in his own and kissed it gently, "I'm still thinking about _this_. Doesn't it hurt at all? I'm worried that a hot, long shower will only add to your discomfort."

"Who said anything about a _long_ shower?" I asked, smiling playfully. "Maybe I was thinking something like a quick, hasty wash."

He pressed his forehead to mine, pulling me closer to him. "Believe me, Bella, if you drag me into the shower with you, we're definitely not going to come out anytime soon."

I pretended to ponder. "Well, let's see... Hmmm. You know, when you really think about it, sometimes, we're just victims of circumstances. I guess we just have to accept that. The truth is, I really _must_ take a shower, and I must take you with me, because," I raised my bandaged hand, wiggling my fingers, "I can't wash my hair with this. Shampoo would irritate the burn, you see, and I might not survive. Which means your presence is _mandatory_."

He mock-sighed. "Well, I see I have no other choice but to accompany you, then. What a terrible fate I'm about to face."

I chuckled, taking his hand and pulling him after me. As I walked, I began to undo the buttons of the shirt, and I heard him let out a quiet groan as I shrugged it off, letting it drop to the floor.

"I think you'll live, Carlisle."

* * *

When we fell asleep that night, we were just a heap of entangled limbs. Carlisle had been right – our shower hadn't been exactly quick. We'd stayed there for what seemed like hours, kissing, touching, exploring, intertwining with each other, until we were trembling and out of breath. We would have probably carried on much longer if the hot water hadn't run out. When it had, Carlisle had carried me to my bed and simply continued where we'd left off.

I didn't think my body had ever experienced this much pleasure ever before, and I wondered to myself if there would be an insane amount of endorphins in my veins even days afterward.

When I drifted off to sleep that night, I was more than relaxed. More than content. A moment before dreams whisked me away, I realized it was even more than that.

I was ridiculously _happy_. I told myself it was just the pleasure hormones and nothing else. The sound of Carlisle's breathing set the rhythm for my own, and I snuggled closer to his warm chest, sighing contently, as he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me even closer.

I woke up sometime during the night, and I instantly knew it couldn't have been morning just yet. It was still dark outside, but I had this feeling I'd been asleep for several hours. I wondered what it was that had awoken me – for some reason, I felt as if there had to be a reason. I wondered what time it was, and I was about to turn onto my back and reach for my phone on the bedside table, when I realized Carlisle's warm, bare chest was no longer pressed against mine.

And then I heard it.

I had been right before; I hadn't awoken without a reason. Something really had disrupted my sleep. I heard a soft moan from the other side of the bed – a distressed moan, the kind of sound one made when suffering from pain or trying to choke back a scream. Frowning, I propped myself up by my elbow and reached for Carlisle in the darkness. He was lying on his side, facing away from me, and when my hand touched his bare back, I realized he was covered in sweat.

I sat up and switched on the light on my bedside table. I turned back to him, sitting on my calves and tentatively touching his shoulder, wondering if he had gotten sick during the night.

"Hey," I said quietly, trying to wake him without startling him. My worry grew, when I saw his face was twisted in obvious agony. When I heard him inhale a sharp, trembling breath, I shook his shoulder gently. "Carlisle."

He jolted awake so violently I jumped. At first, he didn't seem to be aware of my presence, and he sat up quickly, running a trembling hand down his face. Inching closer to him, I reached up to touch his temple. It was warm and sweaty, making me wonder if he was running a fever.

My touch seemed to bring him back to the present, and he gave me a glance. The expression in his eyes frightened me a bit – I imagined only injured animals looked like that.

"Are you alright?" I asked him tentatively, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "What's the matter? Are you ill?"

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. It was a moment before he could answer. When he did, his voice was breathless, like he had just run a hundred miles. "No, I'm fine. I'm sorry if I woke you. I didn't mean to." He drew in a deep breath. "I'm fine."

I frowned. "No, you're not. You're all sweaty, and a moment ago, you were moaning like you were in pain. What is it? If you're sick–"

He shook his head, taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly. "No. I'm not sick. Don't worry about me. This happens...sometimes." He paused, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and putting his face in his hands. "It was just...it was just a nightmare, that's all." I wasn't sure if he tried to convince me or himself. Maybe both.

"Does this happen often?" I asked carefully. I wanted to ask what the nightmare had been about, but I had a feeling it was too personal.

He inhaled deeply before answering – I realized he was making an effort to keep his breathing regular. I reached out to touch his shoulder again in a poor attempt to offer him comfort. It worried me to see him like this – I had never seen anyone reacting to a nightmare so strongly.

"Sometimes," he answered. "It's nothing to worry about. I'm sorry I woke you. I'm sorry. I..." he let out a regretful sigh, "I shouldn't have stayed."

His words hurt me more than they should have. My hand slipped from his shoulder as he got up and fished his boxers from the floor. He pulled them on quickly, before heading into the joining bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

I blew out a sigh and ran my fingers through my hair, wondering what to think of his words. I was still a little shaken as I remembered the look in his eyes after he had woken up. What had he been dreaming about? What kind of a nightmare could possibly cause a grown man to end up in such a state? It must have been bad.

I realized the sheets on his side of the bed were drenched with sweat. I began to strip them off, and as I went to the closet to get fresh bedding, I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just before four in the morning. Since I no longer felt sleepy, I pulled on a t-shirt and panties, throwing a concerned glance towards the bathroom door. I heard water running – it sounded like he was washing his face.

I had just finished changing the bed linens, when Carlisle emerged from the bathroom, dabbing his face with a towel. Maybe it was the lighting, but I thought he looked paler than normal. The dark circles under his eyes seemed more prominent. His hair was moist, like he had run wet fingers through it. He glanced at the pile of sheets on the floor and gave me an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry about that."

I gave a confused chuckle and sat down on the edge of the bed. "About what? Having a nightmare?"

He avoided my gaze and didn't answer. I patted the bed next to me. He hesitated at first, but then he crossed the room and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together.

I watched him closely. "You said this happens sometimes," I began carefully. "Does it mean you've been suffering from nightmares for a long time now?"

He gave a soft, joyless laugh. "You could say that."

"How long has this been going on?"

He didn't answer right away. "For a few years." He flicked me a glance and gave me a small smile. "Don't worry about it, Bella. I'm used to this. I'm only sorry if I startled you. I didn't mean to."

"I know that. It's okay, you don't have to apologize."

"Go back to sleep. It's early."

I had a feeling he wouldn't be joining me, and I didn't want to go back to sleep without him. I kept watching his face closely; that tormented look from earlier was suddenly back again. I brought my hand to his neck, my fingers beginning to play with his hair. He closed his eyes at my touch.

"Is this why you take walks at night?" I asked carefully, wondering if I was crossing some invisible line. "Because you have nightmares?"

He was silent for a moment. "The two are related, yes."

"Have you ever...I mean, if this has been bothering you for years, have you ever tried taking any medication to help you sleep?"

Again, he didn't answer right away. I wondered if he found my questions too personal, intrusive. But I was worried about him. Now I knew why he always looked so tired, as if he hadn't slept in days. I wondered when the last time was he had gotten a good night's sleep.

I heard him draw in a deep breath, before he let it out slowly and opened his eyes. His voice was forcibly calm. "I used to take medication, but it was no use, to be honest. And besides, when it comes to sleeping pills... well, they aren't for everyone. I learned that the hard way."

I wondered what he meant by that. I kept playing with his hair, sliding my good hand down his neck, and then I began to knead the tight muscles of his shoulders and back. He was tense, like a tightly wound spring. Again, I wanted to ask what kept him awake nights – what his bad dreams were about – but somehow, I just knew it was unlikely he would answer.

I had to try, at least. Something clearly troubled him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked gently, as I continued to rub his shoulders and back. "What are your nightmares about?"

I could feel him tense under my touch. He stayed silent for a few seconds, before drawing in a shallow breath. "I'm...I'm sorry, Bella. It's not something...it's not something I feel like talking about. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Don't apologize. I'm not forcing you to talk about it if you don't want to. I just asked, because I'm worried about you, that's all."

He relaxed visibly and swallowed. "Don't be concerned about me," he murmured softly, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "And I'm sorry, again, that I woke you up. You should go back to sleep. Do you have an early shift at the café?"

I had a feeling he was anxious to change the subject. I nodded to answer his question. "Yeah."

Carlisle glanced at the clock, and then he turned to me, ushering me to lie down on the bed. "Well, you don't have to get up just yet. Go back to sleep."

I grabbed his elbow with my good hand and pulled him with me. He hesitated but complied, easing himself down on the bed next to me. I turned onto my side to face him. He seemed calmer now than a few minutes ago, but there was something in his eyes that made me worried. There wasn't just restlessness in their blue depths. I saw agony and well-concealed exhaustion, and again I found myself wondering what tormented him so badly he couldn't escape it, not even in his dreams.

I reached out to stroke his cheek, slowly beginning to draw idle patterns on his skin. I traced the shape of his jaw, before drawing the tip of my forefinger across his lips. Then, I explored the shape of his cheekbones, noticing how his eyes slipped closed at my touch. I continued my gentle exploration, running the tip of my finger over the bridge of his nose, before trailing my fingers across his forehead. I brushed back some of his blond locks, enjoying the silky feel of his hair against my skin.

I was so absorbed by what I was doing that it took a few moments for me to realize Carlisle's breaths had slowed; he was asleep. I continued my gentle exploration for a while more, before turning out the light. Then, I shifted closer to him, closing my eyes.

Sleep wasn't far away. In a matter of moments, I was breathing in the same rhythm with him.


	8. Scars

_**"Everyone has their weak spot.**_

 _ **The one thing that, despite your best efforts,**_

 _ **will always bring you to your knees,**_

 _ **regardless of how strong you are otherwise."**_

\- Sarah Dessen -

* * *

 **Scars**

I woke up to the feel of warm, soft lips on my cheek. Frowning and groaning quietly, I dragged my eyes open to see Carlisle sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. He was fully dressed. Damn.

He brushed a stray lock of hair away from my face, giving me a soft smile.

"What time is it?" I mumbled, struggling to wake up.

"It's just past six," he answered, whispering. "I wanted to wake you up to tell you I have to go. My first class starts at eight, and I have a few things to take care of before that."

"Oh." My eyes slipped closed again. "Wait. I'll make you some coffee before you go."

I heard him chuckle. "Thank you, but you don't have to bother. I can make myself some when I get home. I did switch the coffee maker on for you, however. It should be ready in a while. I also changed the dressing on your hand while you slept. Take some Tylenol for the pain."

It warmed me that he had done all those things for me. They were small and simple things, perhaps, but they made me feel...appreciated. I'd suppose people who were in a relationship did those things for each other all the time, but I guess I hadn't expected something like that from someone who was...well, just sleeping with me and nothing else.

"Thanks. That was very sweet of you."

He smiled, idly smoothing the hair back from my forehead and looking suddenly hesitant. "Can I see you tonight?"

My stomach did a tiny flip-flop. His question pleased me a lot more than it should have. "Of course. I'd like that."

Did I only imagine it, or did he seem...relieved? Had he expected a different answer? Who knew – maybe he had expected me to lose interest in him, now that we'd spent the night together? I had partly expected the same behaviour from him the previous night, but then, he had proved me wrong by staying with me.

"I'll have to work a little later than normal," he said, "but I should be free sometime after five. Would you like me to come over? Or would you rather come to my house?"

"Anything's good for me. I could come to your place for a change."

"I'll pick you up."

I shook my head. "Don't be silly. I can drive there myself."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Can you remember where I live?"

I hesitated. When he had taken me to his house that night to take care of my hand, it had been dark, and I'd been feeling more or less unsettled because of what had just happened to me. "Just give me the address. I hear they've been inventing these things called Google Maps, GPS and navigators, or something like that."

He chuckled softly. "Or how about if I pick you up like a real gentleman, and I'll show you first-hand how to get from your apartment to my house as quickly and effortlessly as possible?"

I turned onto my back and stretched like a cat, letting my eyelids fall lazily shut. "Is that a subtle way to say I'm invited to your house in the future as well?"

He chuckled again, his voice playful as he answered. "Perhaps. Let's see how well you behave tonight. Everything depends on that, I'm afraid."

"So, you want me to _behave_ myself tonight? Does that mean I'm not allowed to be the bad girl that I am?"

I heard him growl quietly. I smiled, keeping my eyes closed.

"I want you to behave yourself _now,_ so I – and you as well – won't be late for work." His voice was closer than I expected – I realized he was leaning over me. "Your coffee will be ready soon. Time to get up, I'm afraid." And then, without a warning, he pressed his lips to mine, and I squealed quietly and tore my eyes open, trying to keep my mouth closed and push him away from me. He ignored my resistance.

"Carlisle!" I managed to wail, when he released my lips. "Morning breath!"

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine, of course! Women don't want to be kissed first thing in the morning. An old, experienced man like you should know that!"

He only laughed softly, before claiming my lips again. I growled against his mouth, feeling his hands wrapping around my arms to keep me still as he coaxed my lips open, deepening the kiss. He continued to caress my mouth with his, until he felt me relax. My resistance melted away, and I wrapped my hands behind his neck and held him to me. Almost immediately, I felt him smile and begin to pull away.

The glimmer in his eyes made my stomach do cartwheels. "I've learned a few things about women, Bella," he told me, his voice low and deep, "And one of those things is they don't always mean what they say." He leaned in to place one last kiss on my mouth before he pulled away again and got up. "Your coffee should be ready. Have a good day. I'll see you tonight."

I felt all fluttery as he left my bedroom. After a moment, I heard the door of my apartment opening and closing. Drawing in a deep breath to calm down my racing heart, I got up and began to prepare for the day.

The hours flew by surprisingly fast. I was smiling the whole time as I worked, despite the fact that the burn on my hand began to throb painfully after a few hours of pouring coffee and carrying trays. I took Carlisle's advice and took some Tylenol, and the other waitress working her shift gave me a weird glance, probably wondering why I was smiling like an idiot while popping painkillers.

Rosalie came to see me in the afternoon, while I was on my fifteen-minute break. We took a table in the farthest corner of the café, and I asked her how the visit to Emmett's parents had been.

"Fine," she answered. "Emmett's sister was there as well, and I still have a feeling she hates me for some reason or another. You know, I never understood why she..." She was about to continue, but then she began to gauge my expression more carefully. "Bella, why do you look like that? And what happened to you hand – again?"

"Oh. I burned it yesterday, that's all. It's not bad."

"You know, a person who's burned their hand shouldn't be smiling like that. What's _up_ with you? Seriously. Only people who've had at least two orgasms recently look like that."

I blushed and chuckled, suddenly wishing I had a camera with me. I observed her face carefully, dying to see her reaction, when I spoke the next words. "Well, last night, I had three of them, actually."

Rosalie's eyes nearly bulged from her head. " _What?_ Who did…how did…what did…" She opened and closed her mouth, apparently not knowing which question to ask first. I chuckled.

"What _happened?"_ she eventually managed to ask, leaning closer to me. "Who did you hook up with?"

I rolled my eyes. "Aren't we a little too old to say 'hook up?'"

"No, and that's beside the point. Tell me _everything_ – and don't leave anything out, do you hear me!"

I glanced at the clock. "My break will be over in a few minutes, so here's the short version…"

"I don't want the short version," Rosalie hissed irreverently. "I want the long, _detailed_ version."

"And I'll give you one later, I promise. But anyway, long story short, I was taking a walk on Sunday, and guess who I ran into?"

"As long as it's not James, I'm happy to hear the answer."

"Believe me, if I happen to run into James, I'll make sure I have Emmett with me. Anyway, I bumped into Carlisle."

Rosalie was simmering with curiosity now. "Really? Did he say why he didn't call you?"

I told her everything. I told her how I'd tried to pretend I hadn't even noticed him, and how he had called my name after seeing it was me. I told her how he had apologized for not calling me, and how I'd at first thought he was just feeling guilty about it and nothing else. When I got to the part where he had run after me and kissed me – hard – she was squealing. Rosalie _never_ squealed. Wow.

"We got to talking and, well...he came to see me yesterday," I explained, blushing furiously, "And then, he stayed the night."

Rosalie leaned over the table, her blue-green eyes glimmering. "Well, how was it? Was he any good?"

I shook my head at a loss for words. "You have no idea."

She giggled. "Was he, you know...was he...well equipped?"

I blushed again. "Let's just say _every_ part of me knows I spent last night with a man and not a boy. If you know what I mean."

"Oh, I think I do know what you mean. Three orgasms? Really? All at one go?"

I stared at the table between us, slightly self-conscious. "No, I mean...we had dinner in between. He cooked for me."

"Aww. That's so sweet. Emmett never cooks."

"He always brings you pizza."

"That he does."

I chuckled, getting up from my seat and preparing to get back to work. Rosalie grabbed my hand and held it tightly, like she was about to drown or something.

"No, you can't leave yet!"

"My break is over soon. Do you want me to get fired?"

"At least tell me what you found out about him! Do you know how old he is? Do you guys have future plans? How many children does he want? What's going to happen _now?"_

"Well, I'll go over to his place tonight. He promised to pick me up. And yes, I found out how old he is. He turned forty-five last winter, but apparently, it doesn't bother him if it doesn't bother me. As for the future..." I trailed off, shrugging, "I don't know. We kind of agreed to keep this casual. He's not...well, he's not looking for anything serious."

"So, you two are just messing around? Why doesn't he want anything serious?"

I hesitated, wondering how to explain the situation, since I wasn't fully aware of the details myself. "He said something like he's not cut out for long and committed relationships, and...well, I was the one who suggested we just take it one day at a time and see where this goes."

Rosalie frowned. "Why do you think that is? I mean, does he have issues with commitment, what?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I'm not sure." Again, I hesitated, wondering how to explain. The conversation Carlisle and I had had on Sunday seemed rather personal, and I wondered how much I should tell Rosalie about it. I felt like I was about to tell her a secret that wasn't mine to tell.

I sat down again, searching for words. "He told me something happened to him, something that apparently makes him now view these things differently. I don't know what that something is, but I have my own suspicions."

"Oh?"

"When I ran into him on Sunday, he was coming from the cemetery. And in this short time I've known him...well, he's seemed...sad. There's no other word to describe him, really. It's like he's grieving. He's light and playful one moment, and a second later, it's like he's a different person. And he always looks so _tired_. Now I know why – he's having trouble sleeping. I noticed it last night." I paused, biting my lip. "A few days ago, you suggested that maybe he's nursing a broken heart. Maybe you were right, in a way."

Rosalie was frowning in a pondering manner. "You mean..."

"Maybe he lost someone. Maybe that's why I saw him coming from the cemetery. And maybe that's why he seems so sorrowful all the time. He doesn't just seem as if he's grieving, he _is_ grieving. And that's why he's not able to start serious relationships with anyone. He can't get over the person he lost."

"Maybe." She gave me an inquiring glance. "Doesn't it bother you, though, that he has one foot out the door, so to speak? Why did you agree to have a relationship with him if there's no future? I'm not against it – I'm just curious. It just doesn't seem like you, that's all. You've never been good at casual."

I shrugged, again unsure of how to answer. "I just want to be with him. I don't care how long or short it lasts. I just...I just have to learn to live one moment at a time, that's all."

"Okay." I could tell Rosalie was trying to see the truth behind my words, but she dropped the subject. "Well, what do you think? Why is he grieving? Did he lose a close friend? A parent? A girlfriend?"

"I have a feeling it has to be a woman. I don't want to ask him about it, though. He said the things that trouble him are hard for him to talk about. I don't want to pressure him."

"Maybe he's a widower," Rosalie suggested, making me raise my eyebrows. I hadn't thought of that, which was kind of stupid of me.

"You think he was married? And it's his wife who died?"

She shrugged. "It's possible. There's a way to find out, you know. Ask him what he thinks about marriage in general, or ask him if he's ever been married himself."

I bit my lip, uncertain. "I guess I could do that. It's just that…he just seems like a very private person. I'm not sure how he'd react, if I asked him something so personal. Since we agreed to keep this casual, he might wonder why I'm prying. I suppose a part of me is worried that asking about it will scare him away. I mean, what are the rules in this type of relationship? Is it okay to ask about personal stuff like that?" I shook my head, frustrated. "I'm lost. Now I know why I've always found casual relationships so problematic – because they can be even more complicated than regular, committed relationships. I've never been in this situation before."

"You and Ben were messing around in high school. That's the most casual I've seen you."

"That was different. It was high school. And besides, I already knew Ben before I began to date him. There were no delicate subjects to tiptoe around, because I knew everything there was to know about him. It was...easy."

Rosalie bit her lip in a pondering manner. "Do you often feel like that in Carlisle's company? Like you have to tiptoe around certain topics?"

I had to think about that for a moment. "Well, not really. I mean, there are a lot of things that bug me, a lot of things I'd like to know about him. I guess I do feel like I have to be careful about certain matters – when I asked him why he didn't want to start a serious relationship with anyone, he said he's not ready to talk about it. That he might never be ready. All I know is something happened, something he doesn't want to discuss. I guess it makes me...I don't know, cautious? I guess I'm worried about saying something that might upset him. Something that might make him realize what we're doing isn't wise."

Rosalie was silent for a long moment. "When you asked him why he quit being a doctor, what was it again he said?"

"He said it wasn't the field for him, or something like that."

"What if..." she drummed her long nails on the table, "What if that has something to do with this as well? I'm not ready to believe he just suddenly had a change of heart. I mean, who quits being a doctor, just like that? The education alone takes over a decade to finish, after all. I think the reason behind his decision to quit is graver than he's let on."

I hadn't thought of it that way, and I knew she could be right. If Carlisle had lost someone, like a wife or a girlfriend, for instance, maybe it'd had an impact on his decision to quit medicine. His scars, wherever they had come from, seemed to run deep. Or maybe they weren't scars at all. Maybe they were still open wounds. What had happened last night supported it.

I wondered if those nightmares plagued him every single night. If so, I couldn't understand how he stayed sane. He said he had gotten used to it, that this had been going on for several years...

I let out a slow breath and glanced at the clock, cursing quietly. "I have to get back to work."

"Keep me posted. Oh, we have a cancellation on Friday at eleven. Would you like to take it? I'll give you a facial, and you can give me that _detailed_ version of what happened last night, like you promised." She winked at me. "Or do you have to work on Friday?"

"Yes, but I have a later shift. I'll take that cancellation." I didn't like facials that much, but sometimes, getting one was the only way to spend some quality time with Rosalie. I'd learned this long ago.

"Great! I'll book it for you. And Bella – I'd suggest you ask Carlisle if he's been married. You're not crossing a line if you do. Besides, if a question like that scares him off, it's not worth it to keep him around. Men who scare easily are more trouble than they're worth. _Trust_ me."

I tightened my apron, promising to think about it. At the same time, though, I kept wondering if I _was_ crossing a line by asking something like that. Since I'd been the one to suggest we keep this light and casual, would he begin to question my motives, if I started to ask personal questions like that? Would that ruin everything?

And what _did_ it say about my motives if I decided to ask? The truth was, I wanted to know him better. I wanted to know what was weighing him down, what had put that ancient, deep sadness in his eyes, and I wanted to know what made him take walks at night, when those nightmares kept him awake. I wanted to know all that, but the question was...did I have the right to know? The right to ask? Especially since he was expecting our light and casual relationship to stay just that – light and casual. Less personal. If bringing up unpleasant, even painful matters might drive him away...knowing what I knew, could I bring myself to ask him about these things?

I knew Rosalie was right – if questions about marriage or stuff like that scared him away, he probably was more trouble than he was worth. But I also knew something else.

I wasn't ready to let him go. Even though I'd only spent one night with him, I wasn't ready to risk losing the little we had.

I was glad I had stuff to do after getting off work. I went grocery shopping and ended up staying at the market a lot longer than I'd intended to. When I eventually made my way back to my truck, it was four thirty. I drove to my apartment and changed quickly, and after that, I threw together a sandwich, while I waited for Carlisle. I felt so wired that I made myself tea instead of coffee, hoping it would soothe my nerves.

It didn't. I took my hair down from its ponytail and began to nibble at my sandwich, sipping my tea and staring at the clock, no longer feeling hungry. When there was a quiet knock on the door, I jumped up from where I was sitting and went to let Carlisle in.

As soon as I opened the door and saw him, my nerves settled. I literally felt every muscle in my body unwind with a surge of something wonderful, something unnamed. I felt completely enervated, but in a good way, as if my whole body recognized and acknowledged his presence.

He smiled as he saw me, and I thought to myself that he looked way too good in his black slacks and blue button-down shirt. The blue tie around his neck matched his eyes perfectly, and I realized I wanted to take it off and do things with it.

"Your timing is perfect," I told him with a playful smile. "Or mine is. My boyfriend just left, you see. Now, you can have me all for yourself, and you don't have to compete for my attention."

"Ah," he chuckled softly, stepping inside. "Thank you for making things so effortless for me. Although, I'm afraid I must insist you break up with this boyfriend of yours." He leaned in to place a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. "I don't like the thought of sharing you."

"Good news, then!" I continued playfully. "He didn't like the thought of sharing me, either. And when I told him about this handsome, blond stranger I met a few weeks ago, this boyfriend of mine got too intimidated and decided to leave. So...you win."

"That is good news." He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. When he pressed his lips to mine, all those muscles that had been completely relaxed a moment ago suddenly hummed to life. "I'd like to ask you, though, if this is the first time you've double-booked," he murmured against my lips. The tone of his voice was jesting, and when he pulled back to look at me, his eyes held a twinkle.

"Yep. First time ever."

He chuckled.

"In all seriousness, though," I said and gave him a glance, my fingers playing with his tie. "I don't do that. Double-book, I mean. I've never been able to go out with multiple people at the same time. I don't understand how some people can do that. Isn't that...well, stressful?"

"I've never found it very pleasant myself," he agreed. "I'd imagine it divides your attention too much."

"I take it you've never done that, either? Dated several people at the same time?"

He shook his head. "Never. I don't do that. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I kind of find it disrespectful for the other person. I understand the rules of dating and relationships have changed a lot since..."

"Since your faraway youth?" I supplied cheekily.

He rolled his eyes. "How indelicate of you, Bella. Now, I'm expecting an apology."

I chuckled, pressing closer to him. "Alright. That was very tactless of me. I'm sorry. You're not old, Carlisle."

He mock-glared at the wall behind me and pretended he hadn't heard what I said, apparently to convey that my apology wasn't good enough. I chuckled quietly again. Rising to my tiptoes, I placed my hands on his shoulders, enjoying the feel of his strong, solid frame against me. Batting my eyelashes at him, I shifted myself so our bodies were touching, and then I captured his lips in a slow, sensual kiss. His arms tightened around me, before his other hand dove into my hair, giving the long strands a gentle tug. It made me moan involuntarily.

I didn't pull away until I began to run out of air. When I did, I made sure every part of his body was aware of my vicinity. _Every_ part. When I drew away, trying to put some space between us, he held me to him, refusing to let me go.

"I'm very, very sorry," I said again, smiling sweetly. "You're not old, Carlisle. You're just, well, twenty years older than I am. Oh. I did it again. Oops."

He blew out a breath and closed his eyes, shaking his head. A grin was tugging at his lips. "I'm going to punish you for that later," he murmured in a low voice. His words made me shiver, and his pupils dilated when he saw my reaction. That earlier grin made its inevitable appearance.

Suddenly, he sobered, though, and began to frown in a contemplative manner. "I suppose...sometimes, I do feel like I'm older than I actually am," he mused. "I feel like I've lived a hundred lifetimes, and it's strange, because I'm barely able to make it through this one."

I was slightly taken aback by the sudden change in direction of our conversation. My hands wandered to the nape of his neck and began to play with his hair. "Why is that?" I asked quietly.

He stared into space over my shoulder, staying silent for a moment. Then, he seemed to snap out of it, and a guarded look came over his face. He smiled at me, but it didn't reach his eyes, that smile. "Never mind," he said softly. "I'm just an old man making useless observations."

I chuckled. "You're not old," I disagreed again gently, "And I'm sure your observations are anything but useless."

"Well, be as it may, I'd much rather make observations about you than myself." He took a small step back to look at me, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "For instance, I'd like to point out how pretty you look today."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and I haven't brushed my hair since this morning. In fact, I haven't even seen a mirror in several hours."

"And yet, you look ravishing."

I chuckled softly, turning away from him to hide the blush creeping onto my cheeks. His compliments shouldn't affect me like that – he probably said those things to all the women he dated. I went to the kitchen and threw away what remained of my tea and sandwich. Then, I grabbed my coat and put it on – it was raining outside – and that was when I realized Carlisle was watching me closely.

"What?" I asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the way he was looking at me.

He shook his head, smiling softly. "Nothing. Are you ready to go?"

Nodding, I turned out the lights and grabbed my keys and bag from the counter.

A minute later, when Carlisle maneuvered his car out of the parking lot, he asked me how my day had been. He turned on the windshield wipers, giving me a curious glance.

"Busy," I answered. "Rosalie stopped by in the afternoon, while I was on a break."

He nodded. "Rosalie? That friend of yours who was with you at the restaurant?"

"Yeah. The same Rosalie." His question made me remember the tall, blonde woman I'd seen with him at the restaurant. Kate, or whatever her name was. Even though I hadn't been willing to admit it back then, I'd been jealous of this woman I didn't even know. I also remembered wondering if Carlisle had a thing for blondes.

His next question made those thoughts suddenly reawaken.

"I'd very much like to officially meet this Rosalie one day," he said, keeping his eyes on the street.

I wasn't sure what he meant by that; I couldn't quite read his tone. It was something like amused.

I cleared my throat quietly. "You know, I believe I told you she's taken," I stated, trying to sound playful and casual.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "And I believe I told you I don't date multiple women at the same time. That's not why I said what I did. Didn't you once tell me the two of you grew up together?"

I nodded. "Yeah, that's right. She's my best friend. We're like sisters."

He smiled and flicked me a glance, and I suddenly wondered if he had brought up Rosalie, just because he wanted to see how I'd react. Did it mean he was testing me? And if that was the case...why?

"So, what's all this sudden interest in her?" I queried, deciding I might as well just ask about it. "Are you obsessed with blondes, since you're one yourself?"

He gave a soft laugh, signaling and turning left. "Not at all. Actually, I suddenly find myself very fond of brunettes." He gave me a small wink, making my stomach flutter. "I'd like to meet this friend of yours because, well, since the two of you grew up together, she's the one who can tell me all those funny, embarrassing stories about your childhood."

"Oh." I closed my eyes and shook my head, not sure if he was being serious. "Right. Well, that settles it. You're never going to talk to her. She'd have plenty of stories, believe me, and they all involve me falling and tripping and losing my balance. In other words, making a fool of myself on a regular basis. You've seen how clumsy and accident-prone I am – imagine how I was when I was younger. It's a wonder Renée – I mean, my mom – doesn't have grey hair."

He chuckled, throwing me a curious glance. "You call your parents by their first names," he stated. "I believe you've mentioned your father before – Charlie, was it?"

I nodded and shrugged. "It's just a habit. I've done it ever since I was very young. People always wondered why I didn't call them 'mom' and 'dad' like a normal child."

"Where do your parents live?"

"My mom lives in Phoenix. Charlie lives in Forks."

"Oh. Are they separated?"

I shook my head. "They divorced when I was just a baby."

Carlisle frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that. Sometimes...sometimes people grow apart, I suppose." He paused, sighing. "Things happen and...suddenly, they realize nothing in life is permanent."

I held my breath, waiting for him to continue, and also wondering what was behind those words. I knew this was the perfect opportunity to ask if he'd ever been married. Since he was asking me personal questions, it should give me the right to ask things from him as well, right? I was wondering, though, why he had wanted to know more about my parents. And why did he want to meet Rosalie and get her to tell childhood stories about me? Maybe he had been only joking, that was all. Maybe that was just empty talk to fill the silence.

"I'm sure some things are permanent," I mused, commenting on his earlier words. "I mean, life would be pretty bleak if _nothing_ was lasting."

He gave me a familiar, sad smile, staying silent for a moment. "I wish I had your optimism."

I watched him carefully. "Why don't you have it, then?" I asked softly. "What made you lose it?"

His eyes left mine, and he began to stare over the steering wheel again. "It's a long story," he sighed, his voice forcibly calm. "I shouldn't bore you with it." He signaled again, turning onto a street that looked familiar. After a moment, I spotted his house. It looked just as refined and beautiful as the last time I'd seen it. He parked in the driveway, hurrying to open the passenger door for me, while I unbuckled my seatbelt. We didn't waste time getting inside – it was raining even more heavily now.

"Have you eaten?" Carlisle asked considerately as he closed the front door behind us.

I nodded. "You?"

"I had a quick bite before I left my office. Here, let me take that." He helped me take my coat off, and as I was wiggling my hands out of the sleeves, I winced as the burn on my hand protested with a jolt of pain. Carlisle noticed it.

"Has your hand been giving you trouble?" he asked, as he hung my coat in the hall closet.

"A little bit. I took Tylenol, like you suggested. But it's nothing. I'm sure it'll get better soon."

He wanted to take a look at it, anyway. "Let's go into the living room," he suggested. "It has good light."

Taking my good hand in his own, he led me along the hallway to double glass doors. Jesus Christ _..._ glass doors. He opened them, urging me to step inside.

The living room was pretty much everything I had expected. It was refined, tastefully decorated and furnished. The walls were ivory white and adorned with paintings that looked expensive. The windows on the west side of the wall were...huge. I was kind of afraid to touch anything. Even the cream-colored couch looked like it was only meant for viewing, not sitting.

Carlisle seemed to disagree.

"Take a seat," he said with a smile. "I'll be right back." He went back to the hallway, no doubt to retrieve the first-aid kit I was already familiar with.

As I sat down, I gave a curious glance around me, wondering how long he had lived here. There was a large bookshelf on the other side of the room, and my eyes instantly settled on it. I noticed there was a row of framed photos on one shelf. I wanted to get up and go see them more closely, but that was when Carlisle came back. He gave me a brief smile, placing the first-aid kit on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"You have a beautiful house," I told him, as he sat down next to me. "Have you decorated it yourself?"

He shook his head and gave a laugh. "Heavens, no. I don't know a thing about these matters. I only chose the paintings and nothing else. I could easily live without any furniture at all, to be honest, but a friend of mine – who knows me too well – insisted I must at least have the walls painted and get a couch and a bed. She did most of the work – she's an architect and interior designer."

I tried not to think too much about this female friend of his who knew him too well. Drawing in a shallow breath, I looked around me to avoid his eyes. "Well, it looks very nice."

"I can show you the rest of the house as well, if you want."

I chuckled. "Okay. I'd like that. Although, I don't know if that's wise. The next time I get home, I'll realize what a hole my small apartment really is compared to this."

"Nonsense. There's nothing wrong with your apartment." He took my injured hand in his and began to take off the gauze. The base of my thumb was still the most irritated area. When he took off the dressing, he studied the burn carefully. "It's not blistering," he murmured. "It's a good sign. And there's no swelling, either." He reached out to take a small tube from the kit.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Antibiotic ointment, just in case. You can take this home with you." He squeezed some ointment onto a cotton ball and gently wiped the base of my thumb with it. It stung a bit. Then, he took a new non-stick dressing from the first-aid kit, gently placing it on the burn. "You know, if this keeps healing at this rate, you might not need these dressings anymore after a few days." He gave me a smile, wrapping some fresh gauze around my hand.

"That's good. And thanks again." I watched him carefully, observing the way he worked on my hand. It was like his long, tapered fingers, his steady hands, were meant for healing. He met my gaze – it was as if he had sensed my thoughts. "You know, I find it kind of hard to believe you quit practicing because being a doctor wasn't your thing. You seem so...well, you seem like you really enjoy this – like you enjoy helping others. Like it gives you a lot."

He looked away from my eyes so quickly, I knew I had said something wrong. He finished wrapping the gauze and reached out to take a roll of medical tape from the kit. I was about to apologize, even though I wasn't really sure what I'd said wrong, but he began to speak before I managed to utter a word.

"You're right, in a way. I used to enjoy being a doctor," he murmured, his voice oddly distant. He secured the gauze with a piece of tape. "But...things changed. I was honest when I said it wasn't the field for me. Some people...well, some people have to learn and discover things about themselves the hard way." He busied himself with gathering the supplies, maybe to avoid my eyes.

"And that's what happened to you?" I ventured to ask, watching him closely. He still wouldn't look at me.

"You could say that." He let out a quiet breath, closing the first-aid kit. He seemed to realize he had nothing do with his hands, then, and he laced his fingers together. He began to bounce his knee, like he was restless or agitated. I wondered if he wanted to pace.

"I'm sorry," I said, touching his hand gently. "I didn't mean to bring up an unpleasant topic. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

He finally turned to me, meeting my gaze and giving me a small smile. "You have no reason to apologize." He took my hand and squeezed my fingers, very gently, since it was my injured hand. He adjusted the gauze, making sure it was secure.

Accidentally, the tips of his fingers brushed against the long scar that ran from my wrist up my arm. I noticed he was studying the scar, just like yesterday, his thumb idly caressing the uneven skin.

"It must've taken a couple of stitches to close this up," he murmured, giving me a glance that was torn between worried and amused – I'd suppose he was thinking about the things I'd said about me being clumsy and accident-prone.

"Yeah. Like a thousand," I gave him a wan smile.

He was still examining the scar. "You said you fell on broken glass. How did that happen?" When I didn't answer, he looked up to see my eyes. "Did you trip?"

I swallowed, hesitating. "No, not exactly…" I drew in a deep breath, not knowing why it was so hard to tell him. It was easy to talk about this with Rosalie, after all.

Carlisle was frowning now – apparently, he had noticed something about this topic made me uneasy. "What happened?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

I focused on his hand that was still holding mine. "I did fall on broken glass, like I said. But I didn't trip." I let out a long breath. "Remember that ex-boyfriend of mine I mentioned yesterday? The incurable idiot, as you called him?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes?"

"Well, he wasn't just an incurable idiot. He kind of turned out to be an incurable asshole."

Realization dawned on his face. " _He_ did this to you?"

I shrugged. "We were arguing...well, not arguing, not really. Long story short: I caught him sleeping with another woman – in _our_ apartment – and later, when I confronted him about it, he got mad. He pushed me, and when I tried to reach for something to keep my balance, I knocked a large glass onto the floor, and it shattered. Needless to say, I followed. It took over three hours to get all the shards out."

Carlisle closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. His hand tightened around mine, but he quickly released his hold, remembering the burn. He ran his fingers through his hair, and when he finally opened his eyes, I couldn't read his expression.

"Where is he now?" he asked quietly.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen him in months."

"Was he charged for anything? Assault?"

I gave him a wry smile. "It was my word against his. And since I'm so clumsy by nature, apparently, the whole thing was _my_ fault."

"He said that?"

I shrugged again. "He made it sound like he'd just nudged me a little bit – by accident, of course. I know I should've fought harder to make my own voice heard, but I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to leave and never see him again, never even think about him again."

He nodded slowly. "What's his name? Do you know where he lives?"

I gave him a close look. "Why do you ask?"

He smiled darkly. "No reason. I just thought I might stop by and have a word with him."

I chuckled. "I know you can patch him up and everything after you've kicked the crap out of him, but still, I don't think it'd be wise of me to tell you his name. I have a feeling I'd have to bail you out of jail sooner or later if I did."

"It wasn't my intention to get caught." It was hard to read his expression – I had no way to know if he was serious or not. After a while, though, his smile softened. "To be honest, I detest violence more than anything. But I'd admit the thought of paying a visit to this man is very tempting."

I chuckled again. "Well, thank you for being so chivalrous. I don't even know where he lives, though. Like I said, I haven't seen him in a year. His name is James, but I'm not going to give you his last name. Just in case. If you someday find yourself in a foul mood and feel like you need to vent your aggression on someone..." I trailed off meaningfully, drawing a soft, joyless laugh from him.

"Right." He flicked me an inquisitive look. "How did you end up with a man like that? Is this James the person you were together with for two years, like you said that one day?"

I nodded. "That's him. The longest relationship I've had. How ironic."

His fingers found my scar again. "Was this the first time he mistreated you?"

"Yeah. I mean, he never got physical with me, until that one day. As for how I ended up with him...I don't know. He was charming and funny and easy-going, but I suppose I never actually knew him. I've later wondered how long he'd been cheating on me – maybe that stuff was going on all the time we were together. I have no way to know."

"Were there any telling signs of his true personality?"

"Not really. Like I said, he knew how to be charming. I guess there were these innocent-seeming comments every now and then – like the one about my breasts, for instance – but he always made it sound as though he was just trying to be humorous."

Carlisle snorted softly. I gave him a glance.

"I'm sure you're questioning my judgement right about now," I mused, giving a soft laugh. "You're probably wondering how any intelligent, self-respecting woman can end up with an immature idiot like him. What can I say? I was blind. I thought I knew him, and I believed I loved him...and then I had to learn the hard way that, maybe you can never really know the other person. That maybe you can never be sure about anything."

"I don't know," he murmured. "I'd like to believe some people have the opportunity to come to know the other inside and out. But it means taking risks and…putting a lot of trust in something that could be taken away from you at any moment."

I had a feeling he knew what he was talking about. I watched him closely, noting the bleak look in his cornflower blue eyes. He seemed to sense my gaze, and he looked up to meet my eyes. A small smile curved his lips.

"I do agree with what you said," he murmured and rose from the couch, taking my good hand in his and helping me up. "That ex-boyfriend of yours...he really sounds like an immature idiot. And I'm very glad you left him. It means you respect yourself. Some women, and some men as well...it's sad to think how many stay in bad relationships. Maybe they're afraid to leave, or maybe they don't value their life and health. And then, there are people who stay, because bad relationships are all they know."

I nodded. "Some people don't have anyone to support them. That can have an impact on it as well. When I went back to get my things from the apartment where I lived with James, I had Rosalie and her boyfriend with me. Everything would've been so much harder had I been alone."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't have to go back there by yourself. Rosalie sounds like a good friend."

"She is."

Carlisle cupped my jaw tenderly, the pad of his thumb brushing my cheek, before skating across my mouth. My lips opened involuntarily at his touch, and his eyes darkened visibly, as the tip of my tongue darted out to touch his thumb. I kind of wanted to roll my eyes at myself, then, wondering what had happened to my inhibitions. They seemed to disappear every time he looked at me like that.

I moved closer to him, taking his hand from my face and squeezing it. "You know..." I began slowly, pressing my body closer to his, "This is the second time today you've mentioned Rosalie. Are you sure you don't have a thing for her?"

He chuckled softly. "Well," he whispered, leaning his face closer to mine. "Since she's taken, like you said, I guess I'm just going to have to accept the situation. Fortunately, I noticed Rosalie has this extremely beautiful brunette friend. And you know what? I might have a teeny, tiny thing for _her_." He nuzzled my nose with his, and his hands took my hips. He pulled me closer, and then, he caught my lips with his own. As he slowly explored my mouth, his tongue swept across my lips, asking for entrance. I gladly obliged.

Carlisle's kisses...they were nothing I had ever experienced. He was always both gentle and demanding, tender and urgent. It was passion, and some sweet, unspoken emotion combined. He always held me like I was something fragile and easily breakable, but at the same time, there was despair in his every touch, like he was afraid I might suddenly disappear if he let me go. I wanted to let him know I wouldn't disappear. That I was helplessly under his spell. I blamed his eyes. His deep, cornflower blue eyes...

His mouth released mine and traveled down my jaw. He scraped his teeth lightly across the pulse in my neck, and I shuddered and drew in a sharp breath, putting my hands on his shoulders to support myself, as he continued to assault my neck with his mouth. A delicious warmth began to pool in the pit of my stomach, making my heart race and my head spin.

Suddenly, the floor disappeared from under me; Carlisle swept me into his arms like I weighed nothing. His lips returned to mine, and I knew he was moving, even though I couldn't see anything; I'd closed my eyes. I felt the movements of his body, as he carried me out of the room, and I heard how he worked doors open with his elbow, never releasing his hold on me.

"I thought," I murmured against his lips, my voice ridiculously breathless, "you were going to give me a tour of the house."

"I am," he answered, his voice husky and deep. "I'll start with the bedroom. Is that alright?" Almost immediately, I felt him place me on something soft. His lips went back to my neck, and I mumbled something unintelligible to respond to his query, unable to remember what he had even asked. His fingers were unfastening my jeans, and his lips left my skin as he pulled back and stood up, yanking my shoes off impatiently. Then, his hands were on the waistband of my jeans again, and in one quick motion, he pulled them off. My underwear followed suit.

I heard the slide of his shoes as he took them off. I raised my head from the bed, practically heaving for air, as I watched him unbuckle his belt before slowly unfastening the front of his slacks. He pulled them off and kicked them aside, his eyes never leaving mine. I sat up on the bed, my mouth going dry as he returned to me, his warm hands wrapping around my ankles. He rolled off my socks one by one, and somehow, he managed to make even _that_ look sexy. How the hell was that possible? They were just _socks_ , for God's sake.

As he leaned closer to kiss me, my fingers found the knot of his tie. There was a quiet hiss of silk as I loosened it. Breaking away from his lips, I pulled the tie over his head, and then his hands were everywhere, tugging at my T-shirt and pulling it off me. My hands weren't idle, either. I made quick work of the buttons of his shirt, and I pushed it off him, pressing a few hasty kisses on his broad, muscular chest, and then, my fingers found the waistband of his underwear. Before tugging them off, I slid my hand down the front, watching him. His eyes slipped shut, and his mouth fell slightly open, his hips giving a small, involuntary thrust.

"Bella..." he hissed, covering my hand with his, as I continued to stroke him. I tilted my head up to kiss him, stopping my caresses to hook my fingers into the waistband of his boxers. I pushed them down, feeling his hardness spring free.

Placing my hand on his chest, I broke away from his mouth and urged him to lie down. He complied, his eyes never leaving mine; there was only desire and need in their blue depths. I slid his boxers down his legs and threw them on the floor, and I stopped for a moment, then, drinking in the toned and muscular appearance of his bare body. I caught Carlisle's gaze; he was watching me intently. I wondered if he liked it that my eyes were feasting on his body. His breathing was labored and heavy, as if he was struggling to control it. As I reached behind me to unclasp my bra, letting it slowly fall away, he closed his eyes for a moment and groaned quietly. Soon enough, though, he was watching me again.

I, however, was done watching.

I crawled over him, placing a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. Then, I kissed my way down his neck to his chest, enjoying the way he groaned and shuddered, as my lips trailed down his stomach, then lower still. I ran my fingers through the light trail of hair that crept down from his navel, and he moaned again, as my hand continued its search, grasping his throbbing arousal. I sat on my heels, giving him a glance and noticing he was still watching me. As I leaned down, I saw him lock his jaw and grit his teeth together, his eyes slamming shut, as I gave his weeping erection a tentative lick, and I moaned as I felt its rigid, unyielding heat against my tongue.

"Oh, my-" The load groan erupting from Carlisle's throat cut the sentence. Grasping him firmly with one hand, I lowered my mouth on his length and licked around the tip lightly. "Bella! Oh my...God, that feels incredible..."

I hummed around him, swirling my tongue over the head. He groaned again, before letting out a string of incomprehensible grunts. I felt his fingers twining in my hair, and I increased the pressure of my mouth, slowly rolling my tongue around his tip again. I felt the muscles of his stomach and thighs begin to tense and quiver, and his fingers in my hair tightened, not hard enough to hurt me, but hard enough to catch my attention.

"Bella...Bella, please," Carlisle moaned, his hips giving a small, shaky thrust. "Bella, stop. You have to...stop. _Now_." The last word came out as strangled whimper. Smiling, I released my mouth from him and blew on his sensitive member. The sound that left him right then wasn't a moan or a grunt – it was more like a desperate cry.

Before I even knew it, he had pulled his hand from my hair and sat up. I felt him grab my shoulders and push me down on the bed, falling on top of me. His breath was hot against my face. A bead of sweat was rolling down his forehead, and I reached out to wipe it away.

"Bella," he breathed, his blue eyes darker than I'd ever seen them. "The things you do to me..." He shook his head, his other hand trailing down my body and palming my other hip. "I swear, you're going to give me a heart attack. Do you not remember I'm not a young man anymore?"

I wiggled against him, moaning loudly, as I felt his twitching member press against my thigh. "Well, I noticed you're not exactly a boy, if you know what I mean," I answered, pitching my voice low. He groaned and threw his head back.

"Bella, for goodness' sake..." His hand left my hip and traveled down my leg, bending my knee. Then, he slowly dragged his fingers up my inner thigh, until he reached my center, and I moaned quietly as he stroked my sensitive heat with his fingers, finding the bundle of nerves that was aching for his touch. I closed my eyes and moaned again, biting my lip and moving my hips to seek more friction.

"Look at me," he whispered.

My brain didn't want to cooperate, and it was a while before I managed to do what he asked. My hands were fisted around the comforter beneath me, and my back arched involuntarily, as Carlisle dipped his fingers lower, slowly sliding them along my wet folds, before he continued to tease my sensitive nub.

"Carlisle! Oh...yes!" I thrashed my head from side to side, not knowing how to deal with the intense pleasure coursing through me. He stilled my movements by capturing my lips, his hand continuing to stroke me.

I tried to pull air into my aching lungs, dizzy from the sensations coursing through me. Heat began to coil in my core, as he kept caressing my sensitive flesh, and just when it began to feel like the pleasure was too much, like my control was about to snap at any moment, his touch withdrew, leaving me heaving and wanting and feeling like everything around me was just rocking and swaying. And as I met Carlisle's intense gaze, I suddenly had a feeling like nothing would feel steady to me after this.

He placed one more urgent kiss on my lips, before gently grasping my hips and flipping me onto my stomach. That alone made my head reel, but not because of the sudden change of position. An involuntary moan rippled from my throat, as Carlisle grabbed my hips and pulled me onto my knees. He reached around me to fondle my breasts, as his other hand dipped lower to caress the sensitive bud of flesh at the apex of my thighs. He drew me against him, spreading my legs wide with his knees, at the same time as he pushed himself inside me.

"Carlisle!" I no longer remembered how to form words. His name was the only thing my mouth was able to form. He set up a slow but firm rhythm, his fingers working magic with the bundle of nerves between my legs, and I buried my face into comforter and fisted my hands around the soft fabric, trying to muffle my screams, as he kept driving into me, the sound of his heavy breathing and quiet grunts filling my ears.

Suddenly, he pulled me up against his chest, his steady pace never wavering. His breath was hot against my skin, as he kissed the side of my neck. "I want to hear you, Bella," he murmured, his voice urgent and pitched low. "I want to hear you scream my name when you come."

I began to see rainbows. Was that normal? Was my brain going to fry? If so, hearing Carlisle talking dirty to me was certainly worth it.

He began to thrust his hips more firmly, making me cry out loudly. I reached behind me to grasp his waist, feeling like I needed something to hold me steady.

"Oh, yes...Carlisle!"

"What do you want, Bella?" he whispered. His fingers circled my sensitive nub again, and then, he changed the pressure of his touch, making heat pool in my lower belly and shoot through my every vein. "Is this want you want, sweetheart? Do you want me to touch you like this?"

"Yes! Yes, Carlisle...so…so close..." I managed to pant.

His response was to thrust even harder. As he rocked against me, I suddenly felt his teeth press against my shoulder, like he was holding back a loud cry. It was so arousing that, the tension in the pit of my stomach increased. And suddenly, that sensation was too intense, and then my pleasure was hitting its peak, like a dam had suddenly broken. I could only moan Carlisle's name and tremble in his arms, as he held me against him, his hips still moving at an urgent pace, as I came undone around him. Wave after wave of spasms shook me, and I was vaguely aware of the rapid rise and fall of Carlisle's chest against my back, as his moans grew louder, and he thrust into me once, twice more, before my name tumbled from his lips in a hoarse cry. His guttural moans filled my ears, as I felt him twitch and release inside me, filling me with warmth.

As the waves of heat and pleasure kept ripping through me, I began to feel boneless and weak, and I was just a heap of tingling, trembling flesh, as Carlisle shifted, pulling out of me and gently laying me down on the bed. His hand kept caressing my tender flesh, as I slowly came down from my high. When I felt like I might actually begin to see and hear normally again, I realized Carlisle's head was resting on my chest, his rapid breaths brushing against my bare skin.

I reached out to caress his slightly moist hair, and he stirred, his gentle touch withdrawing from my body. He shifted again to wrap his arms around me, pulling me close and sliding his body along mine. I closed my eyes, and for a while, we just lay there, slick skin against slick skin, our chests heaving, as we tried to catch our breath. After a while, I opened my eyes, as Carlisle placed a soft kiss on my lips, his hand coming to cup my face. I found it hard to read the look in his eyes. It was tender, but I realized it was also almost apologetic.

"What is it?" I asked in a soft whisper.

He shook his head and gave me a small smile. "Nothing. It's just that...well, it was my intention to be gentler with you. I didn't mean to be so...rough."

His hair had fallen over his forehead, and I reached out to brush the wet locks back. "I like gentle," I murmured, leaning in to kiss him, "But I don't mind rough, either. To be honest, Carlisle, that was..." I shook my head, at a loss of words.

"Mediocre?" he supplied with a teasing smile. "Alright? Tolerable?"

I laughed quietly. "I was going for words like 'incredible' and 'breathtaking.'" I grabbed his shoulder and pushed him onto his back, and then I rested myself on his chest, my fingers slowly tracing the line of his jaw.

"Well, I'm pleased to hear those are the words you'd use," he murmured with a smile.

"Feeling flattered, are you?"

He chuckled. "Perhaps."

I leaned closer to give him a brief kiss. "Well, you should. Because, you know..." I bit my lip, slightly self-conscious, "I've always had trouble with...well, you know..." I trailed off, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks.

"Having an orgasm?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Really?"

I nodded, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah. It was rather rare when I'd have one, when I was with someone else. But when I'm with you..." I shook my head, smiling as his eyes flared, "Every time, Carlisle. _Every_ _damn_ _time_. What is it you know that the rest of the world doesn't?"

He chuckled. "I assume you mean your exes when you say, 'the rest of the world?'" He didn't wait for my answer. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, and in one fluid movement, he rolled us over, so I was pinned beneath him. He hovered over me, his nose nuzzling mine, before he dropped sweet, slow kiss on my lips. "Have you considered," he pressed another kiss on my mouth, "that perhaps you've only been with young, adolescent boys?" His next kiss was deeper, more passionate. "And have you perhaps noticed I'm not one?"

I groaned quietly as his other hand roamed down my body, caressing the curve of my waist. "Wow. Aren't you cocky?"

He laughed softly, his lips nibbling the side of my mouth. "Blame yourself. You brought this up."

"True." The word came out as a moan, as his hand left my waist and began to cup the sensitive flesh at the juncture of my thighs, his fingers sliding along my folds, gently teasing me. My breathing began to quicken, but then, his touch was suddenly gone, making me want to growl in frustration. Carlisle placed another tender kiss on my lips, before he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me up with him. He shifted himself off the bed, slipping his other arm under my knees, as he picked me up.

"What are you up to now?" I asked, still slightly breathless.

Carlisle smiled. "I'm continuing the tour of the house. Now that you've seen the bedroom, I thought I'd show you the bathroom next."

"Oh." I pretended to ponder. "But what if I don't need to see the bathroom?"

"It has a tub."

I bit my lip. "Hmm. Is it bigger than mine?"

"Possibly."

I sighed in mock heaviness. "Well, alright. I guess you could show me the bathroom, then."

"Excellent."

I giggled as he began to carry me out of the room, and I threw a quick glance around me, before he stepped into the hallway; I realized I hadn't really _seen_ his bedroom. My attention had been entirely on Carlisle for these past moments. I caught a glimpse of ivory white walls, with two large paintings on them, and behind his huge bed was a large window with blue curtains that matched the cover of the bed. It was a beautiful room. Carlisle noticed I was looking around me, and he stopped.

"Would you rather end the tour here?" he asked, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

"Nope. I'm ready to see the bathroom. And the tub you promised."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Another giggle escaped me. He adjusted me in his arms and carried me out of the room. I thought to myself that, if this was his idea of giving me a tour of the house, I wouldn't mind if he showed me the rest of the rooms as well.


	9. Our Love Is Eternal

_**"We don't meet people by accident. They are meant to cross our path for a reason."**_

\- Unknown -

* * *

 **Our Love Is Eternal**

Carlisle asked me to stay the night. For some reason, it surprised me – I wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was because he had clearly hesitated, when I'd asked him to spend the previous night with me at my apartment.

We went to bed early, but not because we wanted to sleep. Our need for each other seemed to be escalating each hour. It was explosive, that need, almost primal. Neither of us complained, though, and just like the previous night, we fell asleep in a tangled heap of limbs.

Sometime during the night, I awoke, realizing I was thirsty. It was dark, and at first, I didn't know where I was – for some reason, I had this vague feeling I wasn't in my own bed. Then, I remembered the previous night and our activities, and I no longer wondered why I felt so dehydrated.

There was an illuminated clock on the bedside table; its hands showed me it was just after four in the morning. I got up quietly, trying to remember which side of the bed I had chosen and wondering if I could make it to the kitchen without turning on any lights. I considered using my cell phone as a flashlight, but I realized I had left it in the pocket of my coat. And my coat was obviously hanging in the hall closet. How else.

I tried to get up as quietly as I could, not wanting to wake Carlisle. I pushed the covers off me and sat up, still wondering how to make it to the kitchen without tripping. The light switch for the hallway was on the right wall – this I remembered. If I could make it over there...

I was just about to get up, when the light on the other side of the bed was switched on. I looked over my shoulder, surprised to see that Carlisle was awake and sitting up on the edge of the bed. He had pulled on a pair of black boxers, and he looked tired, like he always did. But he also looked alert, causing me to believe he had been awake for quite some time.

I gave a soft laugh. "How long have you been sitting there?"

He hesitated. "For a while," he answered, making me wonder if he'd had any sleep tonight. Had he woken up to a nightmare again, like the previous night?

"Everything okay?" I asked, studying his expression. The dark circles under his eyes worried me.

He nodded, smiling softly. "Of course. I was going to ask the same from you. I didn't wake you, did I? People have told me I tend to think loudly."

I chuckled. "No. I woke up because I'm thirsty. I didn't want to wake you, and I was just considering that maybe I should crawl to the kitchen to avoid stumbling in the dark."

He smiled. "I see." He got up and leaned over the bed to press a kiss on my cheek. "I'll get you some water. No crawling in the dark required."

"Thanks."

I couldn't help but gaze after him as he left the room. His butt was...incredible. With or without the boxers. I rolled my eyes at myself, wondering what the matter with me was. We'd been having sex for the better part of the evening, after all. Was I turning into Rosalie?

Or maybe I simply felt as though I couldn't get enough of him. Who could blame me?

Carlisle returned a minute later with a glass of water. I wrapped the sheet around myself, slightly self-conscious about the fact that I was naked, and he wasn't. I thanked him quietly as he gave me the glass, and he smiled as a response, before sitting on the bed on his side. I sipped the water eagerly, drinking almost all of it. Then, I placed the glass on the bedside table, giving a glance at the clock. It felt weird to be awake at this hour.

"Did I dehydrate you yesterday?" Carlisle asked quietly, sounding amused. I turned to him.

"Perhaps," I answered with a grin and lay back down. He did the same, rolling onto his side and grasping the sheets covering my body.

"You don't need this, do you?" he asked with a grin, his blue eyes glimmering teasingly, as he pulled the sheet down and pushed away the hair that had fallen over my bare chest. His forefinger began to circle the bud of my other breast. The touch was light, but even so, it sent shockwaves through my body.

"Not fair," I murmured. "You're wearing clothes, and I'm wearing nothing."

He chuckled. "Boxers don't count as clothes."

"They do if the other person is butt naked. It's all about the circumstances."

He gave a soft laugh. His hand left my breast as he pulled back. I heard the whisper of fabric against skin, and I glanced at him, noticing he had gotten rid of the boxers.

"Better?" he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Much better."

He crawled closer to me, his hands finding the swell of my breasts again. I was quickly forgetting I'd once had a complex about them; I'd suppose the attention Carlisle was constantly giving my chest had something to do with it. He always looked at me with deep appreciation, like I was a sculpture or some other work of art, and it made me feel beautiful and wanted and...desired. I realized no man had ever looked at me like that before. For some reason, the realization was startling.

"Where did you go?"

Carlisle's quiet voice seemed to come from somewhere far away. I looked at him, smiling softly.

"Nowhere. I'm just thinking to myself that, you seem to be a breast man," I said in a playful manner, trying to push aside the surprisingly strong feelings my earlier realization had caused. "It's good to know."

He chuckled softly, pressing a soft kiss on my shoulder. "I suppose I am." He eased himself closer to me, his other hand sliding down my body and caressing the curve of my butt. "I like this, too, though," he whispered, his voice pitched low and intimate. "Does that make me..."

"An ass man?" I supplied, giggling as he gave my buttock a squeeze. "Maybe you're both."

"Maybe. Or maybe..." he nibbled the line of my jaw, trailing kisses up to my ear, "Maybe I'm a Bella man."

"You mean you only date women called Bella? You're a hard man to please. Tell me, how many Bellas do you have lined up?"

He laughed softly. "Well, like I told you, I don't date multiple women at the same time. So, for now, I'm sticking to this one Bella I'm seeing."

"For now." I tried to keep my voice light. Our playful, non-serious conversation reminded me our relationship was like that, too. Playful and non-serious. The thought shouldn't have made me fell so...sad. Especially since I knew what I'd signed up for. Carlisle had made it clear committed relationships were a big no-no for him. And besides, it was me who had suggested we keep this casual. Therefore, I had no reason to complain. I just had to enjoy this while it lasted, that was all.

"Bella? Where did you go again?" Carlisle asked. I met his gaze; there was a small frown on his face.

I shook my head, giving him a brief smile. "Sometimes, my brain is on overdrive early in the morning."

He chuckled. "It seems like it." He nuzzled my nose with his. I'd noticed he did that a lot. It was endearing. "About your name," he suddenly said, "Is it short for something?"

"Yeah. Isabella."

"Isabella," he murmured in a low tone. "That's a lovely name. I like it."

"Really?"

"Mmm-hmm," he nodded.

"I used to hate it when I was growing up. I don't know why. I've gotten over it, though."

"But still, you prefer Bella?"

I shrugged. "I'm used to it. It feels more like my own name. Everyone calls me Bella. Well, except Charlie whenever he's mad at me. He always used my whole name, any time I did something stupid and reckless when I was a teenager. One time, he was like, 'Isabella Marie Swan, you're grounded until you turn forty!'"

Carlisle laughed loudly. "You must've been a handful when you were growing up. Your father sounds like a very strict man, though."

"He's the chief of police, so that might've had something to do with his discipline methods."

"Did he raise you? Or did you live with your mother when you were growing up?"

"I lived with my mom, but I spent most of my school breaks with Charlie. I practically moved to Forks every summer."

He nodded. "I see. And...do I dare to ask, what did you do to make your father so angry he wanted to ground you for several decades?"

I chuckled. "Well...I was sixteen. Rosalie was staying with me in Forks for a couple of days, and we heard this guy in town was having a party while his parents were away. We went there, of course. You know how the story goes. We were young and wild and free. You do remember what it's like to be sixteen?"

He laughed softly. "I suppose. Then what happened?"

"Well, someone had brought beer to the party. And gin. A _lot_ of it."

Carlisle closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Of course."

"Well, you don't have to hear the rest to know what happened. Me and Rosalie practically crawled back to Charlie's house sometime after midnight, because we couldn't walk straight. Charlie was kind of...mad."

Carlisle nodded, and I was surprised to see he no longer looked amused. He sensed my gaze and looked at me. The frown on his face smoothed, and his ridged jaw relaxed, as he offered me a small smile. It was forced, though, and it didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, teenagers are teenagers. But I can understand why your father was angry," he murmured quietly. "Your evening could've ended badly." He let out a slow, quiet breath. I absently thought there was a tone to his voice that made him sound like he was a parent himself. "After all, you never know how the day will end. In the morning, you wake up, and you're blissfully unaware of what's to come. And then..." he trailed off, and for a moment, it seemed as if he had forgotten I was here.

For the thousandth time, I found myself wondering what haunted him, what had happened to him. I was also wondering why the tone of our conversation had changed so fast. His smile had fallen the moment he'd realized the reason why Charlie had been mad was because Rosalie and I had gone home drunk that night.

It made me remember the way Carlisle had reacted before, when he'd seen the bottle of vodka on my kitchen counter. He had been visibly relieved, when he'd heard it wasn't for me. Could it mean he used to have issues with alcohol or something? Or had his parents been alcoholics, perhaps? Was that the reason? Or was he religious?

I was about to speak, trying to find a tactful way to ask about it, but then Carlisle shook his head at himself, as if to get rid of some unpleasant thought. He met my gaze, and a small smile began tug at his lips again. I could see it took some effort to shift his focus back to the conversation.

"Well," he murmured, his tone lighter now. "You still have many years left, I assume. If your father said you're grounded until you turn forty, you still have several years to go."

I chuckled. "Yeah, fifteen of them. I turn twenty-five soon."

"Oh? When's your birthday?"

"I'm not going to tell you that."

"And I'm not going to take that for an answer, Bella."

"If I tell you, do you promise to forget it right away? I don't like a fuss."

"I make no such promises. Now, tell me."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine. It's September 13th."

He smiled. "Thank you. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

I mock-glared at him. He only chuckled, glancing at the clock on the bedside table.

"Do you have a morning shift at the café?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I can drive you there. Do you need to stop by at your apartment first?"

"Yeah. I have to change and grab a few things."

"It's still early. Go back to sleep." Carlisle leaned closer to press a brief kiss on my cheek, and then he drew back, turning out the light. I felt the bed jostle slightly, as he sat up instead of lying down beside me.

"You're not going to join me?" I asked, once again wondering if he'd slept at all during night.

"In a moment."

I couldn't read his tone, so I had no way to know if he just said that for my benefit. I had a feeling, though, that it wasn't his intention to get more sleep tonight. If he had gotten any sleep at all, that is.

I bit my lip, turning my head towards him, even though I couldn't see him. "Did you have a nightmare again?" I asked quietly.

Carlisle didn't answer right away. There was a quiet sound I couldn't place at first, but then, I realized he must have been running his fingers through his hair.

"I'm a restless sleeper," he murmured after a while. "I'm used to it. You don't have to worry about it, Bella. Go back to sleep."

I closed my eyes, trying to do as he said. I tried to go back to sleep, and I tried not to worry, but the truth was, I did worry. I turned onto my side, pulling the covers over me and listening to Carlisle's quiet, steady breathing.

A moment before I drifted off to sleep, I thought I heard a quiet, weary sigh in the darkness.

* * *

The next time I woke up, it was to the feel of soft lips pressing against my cheek.

"Five more minutes," I mumbled, earning a chuckle as a response.

"You're going to be late," Carlisle murmured, and then he did the only thing that had the power to wake me up. Just like the previous morning, he kissed me. On the lips.

"Fine," I grumbled against his mouth. "I'm up."

He chuckled again and pulled back. I heard him place something on the bedside table. "Here. This should help."

Opening my eyes, I saw it was mug of coffee. I blinked. No one had ever brought me coffee to bed – well, no one except Rosalie.

"Thanks." I sat up and took the mug, moaning in delight, as I took a long sip. Carlisle smiled and went to the chest on the other side of the bedroom, taking out a towel.

"I'll take a quick shower," he told me. "You're free to join me, when you've finished your coffee."

I chuckled, glancing at the clock. "You know, if I do that, it's safe to say we'll both be late for work."

He gave a soft laugh as a response. "Do you have a morning shift tomorrow as well?"

I shook my head. "Nope, but I do have an evening shift. Which reminds me..." Tomorrow was Friday, and I had that appointment at the salon. I'd almost forgotten the whole thing. I knew Rosalie would be pissed if I didn't turn up tomorrow. "Do you have paper and a pen?" I asked Carlisle, just as he was about to leave the room. "I have plans tomorrow with Rosalie before my shift, and I'm worried I'll forget it. I should write myself a note, unless I want to end up on her kill list. I'd set myself a reminder, but I forgot my phone in the pocket of my coat..."

He gave me a smile. "There should be a writing pad and a pen in the bedside drawer."

"Thanks." I gulped down the rest of my coffee and put the mug aside. Carlisle disappeared into the bathroom down the hall.

"Wait, which drawer?" I asked, realizing there was a table on each side of the bed. Carlisle didn't hear my question; he had closed the door and turned on the shower. I shrugged inwardly, getting up and pulling on my t-shirt and panties. Then, I pulled open the drawer on my side of the bed.

The drawer was practically empty. There was only one object in there; at first, I thought it was a large book, but then, I took another glance and realized it was a photo album. I reached out to touch the brown leather cover, wondering why it was in the bedside drawer instead of the bookshelf or something. I was kind of tempted to pull it out and open it, but I felt like I would be intruding on Carlisle's privacy by doing so. I slid my fingers under the album and lifted it to see if the writing pad and the pen he had been talking about were underneath, but no.

However, there was something else under the album. When I realized what it was, I swallowed, and before I could stop myself, I reached out for it.

The simple silver ring felt cool against my skin as I held it on my palm. I stared at it, realizing one question about Carlisle had just received an answer. I knew I probably shouldn't have done what I did next, but I felt like I had no control over myself. I took the ring and held it between my thumb and forefinger, trying to see what was engraved on the inner surface. I had to swallow again.

Suddenly, the ring felt extremely heavy.

 _ **July 15, 1995**_

 _ **C.C. & E.A.P.**_

 _ **Our Love Is Eternal**_

So, Carlisle had been married. I tried to tell myself this shouldn't come as a shock – I'd expected this, after all. But still, my fingers trembled slightly, as I put the ring back under the album, now beginning to wonder if it was a wedding album or something. Why did Carlisle keep these things in his bedside drawer? Did he like to look at the photos before going to sleep?

And the ring? How many times had he woken to a nightmare and opened that drawer to take out the wedding ring? How many times a week did his mind fill with memories of his wife he'd once lost in one way or another? I was now pretty sure this was the thing that haunted him. Rosalie had been right. He really was suffering from a broken heart.

 _"Well, it's complicated. The thing is that, no matter what I do, no matter how much I search... Sometimes, it's impossible to regain what you've lost."_

I remembered what he'd said to me the first time he'd come to see me at the café. Again, I wondered what had happened to his wife. If she had left him, it made me wonder if he ever had been able to move on from it. I knew people dealt with these things differently. Charlie had never remarried after Renée had left him, but it was partly because he was rather fond of his own company. I knew his failed marriage had given him sleepless nights, especially in the beginning, but it wasn't like that anymore. Maybe it would have been different if something more tragic had occurred.

Maybe that was the case with Carlisle. I remembered how I'd seen him coming from the cemetery last Sunday, and I was almost sure his wife hadn't left him willingly, by choice. Which could mean that, maybe he was equally unwilling to leave her behind, in a way.

It was obvious I didn't know any details about the situation, but one thing I knew for certain. Carlisle had loved her, and he wasn't over what had happened. Why else would he be unable to move on? Why else was he unwilling to start a serious relationship with anyone? Why else would those nightmares keep him awake at night?"

I heard the shower turn off, and I pushed the drawer closed, suddenly feeling as though I'd seen something that wasn't meant for my eyes. I went to the drawer on the other side of the bed and opened it, finding the writing pad and the pen I'd been looking for. I wondered why Carlisle hadn't said they were in _this_ drawer and not in the other. I had a feeling he wouldn't be pleased if he found out what I'd discovered in the other drawer.

I hastily scribbled down a note for myself and tore the page off the pad. I folded the note in half and began to get dressed, my mind teeming with hundreds of thoughts and questions.

When Carlisle dropped me off at the café about an hour later, for the first time ever, I was a little relieved we had to part. I would miss him, of course, but I realized I needed time to think about things. I didn't know why finding that ring had affected me so much – I'd known all along it was likely that, whatever issues he had, they had something to do with a woman. I'd suppose getting a confirmation about it was just slightly unsettling.

"Thanks for dropping me off," I told him with an absent smile and reached for the door handle.

"Hey," Carlisle touched my arm. He was watching me closely. "Is everything alright? You seem...preoccupied."

I nodded a little too quickly. "Yeah. Of course. Everything's fine."

"Listen, Bella..." he hesitated, "I'd like to see you later today, but I have some catching up to do with work. I have to plan a few lectures and–"

I nodded before he managed to finish. "Yeah, okay. It's fine. I'll see you some other day."

He touched my bandaged hand briefly. "Remember to change the dressing today. I'll try to come by the café tomorrow if I can. How does your weekend look?"

I shrugged. "I have nothing special planned. I'll know more tomorrow, after I've seen Rosalie – she might want us to get together. We've kind of been neglecting each other. She's been tied up at her mom's salon, and I've been busy myself."

Carlisle nodded. "I see. Well, you have my number. Keep me posted."

"Will do."

He leaned in to kiss my cheek, smiling. A strange expression crossed his face, then, and it caught my attention.

"What is it?" I asked.

He shook his head, smiling softly. He reached over the console to take my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Nothing. I just realized that...I'll miss you. I hope I can see you soon."

An innocent comment like that shouldn't have had such a huge effect on me. But to be honest, it had. His words filled me with warmth, and I had to tell myself that maybe it wasn't me he'd miss, but our activities in the bedroom. However, I couldn't ignore the tender sparkle in his eyes as he looked at me.

I leaned over the console to press a brief but passionate kiss on his lips. I said nothing, just gave him a small smile and a wink, deciding it was my turn to be mysterious and leave him full of questions. It was only fair.

As I got out of the car and closed the door behind me, I saw Carlisle watching me with a confused smile on his lips. I gave him a wave before I turned around and headed towards the door of the café, my long hair billowing behind me in the wind.

Let him wonder what my silence could mean, I thought to myself. Maybe he might catch a glimpse of what I was going through, whenever he said something mysterious.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _ **I've been meaning to mention that there's a song I used to listen to while writing this story, and it just fits the mood perfectly. It's The Scientist by Coldplay, performed by Boyce Avenue & Hannah Trigwell. Please listen to their version. It's awesome.**_


	10. Playing With Fire

_**"And suddenly, we were strangers again."**_

\- Six Word Story -

* * *

 **Playing with Fire**

"You're not supposed to fall asleep, Bella. We're in the middle of girl talk."

I kept my eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying myself, as Rosalie kept rubbing my face with something soft. I found myself wondering why I didn't get a facial more often – whatever she was doing to my skin right now...it felt heavenly. I'd always thought facials weren't my thing, but this...I could get used to this.

"Isn't relaxation part of the experience?" I asked, my voice lazy. "Besides, I'm paying you. I can sleep through this whole thing if I want. Just wake me up when you're done, and my skin is glowing like diamonds."

She chuckled. "You know, you can come back for another facial next week, and I promise you it's on the house. But _now_ ," she pinched my cheeks, causing me to shriek, "now I'm due for girl talk. How was yesterday? Did you stay over at Carlisle's house?"

"I did."

"What's the place like? Did he give you a tour?"

I blushed scarlet, as I remembered what our _tour_ had been like. "Yeah, kind of," I mumbled, deciding not to get into details. "It's a beautiful house. A friend of his decorated it, apparently. A _female_ friend."

"Oh. Do I sense a hint of jealousy?"

"Don't be silly. He's allowed to have female friends."

"I guess." My skin began to tingle, as Rosalie spread something cool on my face. "This is a clay mask. It cleans your pores and brightens up your complexion."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Bella, if you fall asleep, I'm going to uncork that vodka you brought me and start the weekend right now."

I chuckled. "Emmett would be mad. It's for both of your, after all. You're supposed to share it."

She continued to spread the mask over my face, focusing on my forehead now. "So, did you ask him if he's ever been married?"

"Nope."

"Why not? Did you chicken out?"

"Of course not. The thing is, I didn't exactly _need_ to ask him if he's ever been married." I told her how I'd accidentally found the album and the wedding ring, when I'd been looking for a pen and paper.

"Okay. Well, that answers one question," Rosalie murmured, her tone reflective. "What was in the album?"

"I don't know. I didn't look."

" _Why not?"_

"I didn't want to intrude on his privacy any more than I had. I shouldn't have even looked at the ring more closely. I'm sure it'd upset him if he knew I'd peeked into the wrong drawer. And what if it was their wedding album or something? Things like that are private, especially if someone keeps them in their nightstand drawer."

"I guess. Well, I wonder what happened – and how long ago it happened. Maybe they got a divorce."

"Maybe. I know I've said this before, but I have a feeling there's something more to it than that. I keep thinking about that day when Carlisle came from the cemetery."

"You still believe she died?"

"Maybe. I don't know. It's just that...he doesn't seem like he's just trying to get over a relationship. It goes deeper than that. Something _haunts_ him. When I woke up yesterday morning, Carlisle was already awake, and he looked like he hadn't slept a single minute the whole night."

Rosalie was silent for a long moment. "It troubles you," she murmured softly, "Whatever it is that's going on with him." I couldn't read her tone. It was reflective, but there was something else about it as well.

"I guess," I answered, suddenly glad she was giving me a facial, and I had a good reason to keep my eyes closed. "I don't know why. I guess I feel bad for him. He seems like a good man, and he's so gentle and considerate and polite and..." I trailed off, letting out a sigh. "Whatever happened to him – and whatever happened to his wife – he seems to be imprisoned by those things. On Wednesday morning, after I'd woken him up from his nightmare, he said he's been suffering from them for years. Whatever happened to him...he clearly can't get over it. It must've been bad. I admit I've known him only for a very short time, but I just know he didn't deserve any of that. I guess I just hope..."

"That you can fix him?" Rosalie supplied. She was silent for a while, and when she spoke, her tone was gentle. "You know, Bella, I don't think you should go there. I'm afraid you'll just end up getting hurt yourself. And you told me you're just messing around, right?"

"Right. We agreed on casual, and nothing more. He made it very clear that long-term relationships aren't his thing."

I heard Rosalie sigh. "Look, Bella, don't take this the wrong way, but you've really only known him for a few days, and you seem like you're already attached to him. I'm just worried you have expectations he can't meet. And then what happens? If he said committed relationships aren't for him, he probably meant it. Men are pretty honest and straightforward about these things."

"I know. And I don't have any expectations. I know what I signed up for when I told him we can keep this casual. As long as it feels right, I want to spend time with him."

"And when it no longer feels right?"

I let out a long, quiet breath. "I don't know. We just part ways, I guess. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"You know, Bella, I'm all about living in the moment and not worrying about tomorrow. I'm not telling you what to do here. I want you to know that. Of course, you should do whatever feels right, and of course, you can do what you feel like doing, but...just try not to get hurt, okay?" She brought a bottle of essential oil under my nose, and the relaxing smell of lavender filled my nostrils. Rosalie and her therapeutic facials. "Inhale deeply, please."

I did as she said, breathing in deeply and searching for words to answer her, but she saved me from that trouble.

"You're right, though," she stated. "He seems like a good man. That's why it'd be unfortunate if he happened to hurt you, and I'd have to send Emmett after him."

"Carlisle can take him."

"Wanna bet?" she chuckled.

"No." I drew in another deep breath and let the scent of lavender soothe my soul. "Or...at least I hope it won't come to that."

* * *

I spent the whole Saturday with Rosalie. It was probably a good thing – I realized I was thinking about Carlisle almost constantly, which was obviously way too much. Maybe Rosalie was right. I was becoming too attached to him. I'd only known the man for a few days, after all. It would be wise to slow down a bit, especially since it was clear we had no future together.

I kept asking myself what I was doing. It had never been in my nature to do casual flings, just like Rosalie had pointed out. Why had I made an exception for Carlisle? What was it about him that had caused me to make a choice I normally wouldn't make?

I didn't know. It wasn't just about sex – this I knew. Even though he was incomparable when it came to that area, I knew my attraction to him wasn't just physical. Something about him fascinated me, as simple as that. It kind of frightened me that I was so drawn to him. Which was...unfortunate. I was pretty sure this fascination was only one-sided.

That caused me to wonder how long our thing would last. Carlisle had been very open about this – he'd said his relationships were always short, that he was incapable of starting anything long and lasting with anyone. Would it be him who broke things off eventually? Or would I leave him, when I realized I was just wasting my time, since our relationship wasn't going anywhere?

I didn't know.

I tried to keep my own words in mind, telling myself what I'd told Rosalie. I just had to take it one moment at a time and not worry about what was to come. As long as it felt good and right, I wanted to spend time with Carlisle. And when the day came when it would no longer feel right...well, just like I'd told Rosalie, I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

I tried to call Carlisle on Sunday afternoon to ask how his weekend was going, secretly hoping he'd suggest I come over or vice versa. He didn't pick up, and I assumed he was out. Maybe he was taking a walk, just like last Sunday. I wondered idly if he had gone to the cemetery again.

I had considered telling him I'd found the wedding ring from his nightstand drawer, but then, I had decided against it. For some reason, I felt pretty bad about the whole thing. But then again, finding the ring had been an accident. Why was I feeling so guilty, then? I'd suppose I felt like I'd intruded on his privacy.

I remembered our conversation a week ago, when we'd been sitting on the sidewalk bench. I'd asked him if he'd ever had a long-term, serious relationship. I now realized he had never answered that question. I'd given him the opportunity to tell me about his marriage, and he had chosen not to take it. There had to be a good reason for that. An obvious explanation was that talking about his marriage was too painful for him, and that was why he hadn't brought it up with me. And if my suspicions were correct, and if he really was a widower...

Therefore, I decided that if he didn't feel like bringing it up, I wouldn't mention anything about it, either. It was a simple decision, but at the same time, I wondered if it was the right one. The things that troubled Carlisle...it was obvious they had a huge impact on his everyday life. I wondered if he had ever talked about his problems with anyone, and I was kind of worried about him. Maybe there was a part of me that hoped he'd open up about his problems with me.

 _"You know, Bella, I don't think you should go there."_ The memory of Rosalie's words brought me back down to earth. She was right. I shouldn't try to fix him. I might only end up getting hurt myself.

 _But he deserves better than this._ I pictured him lying in bed, fully awake at night, and I imagined him getting up, opening the bedside drawer and taking out the silver ring. He wouldn't put it on his finger – he'd just stare at it and read the engraving on the inner surface time and time again, even though the letters and numbers were probably carved in his mind and soul. _Our Love Is Eternal._

I wondered what his wife had looked like. I wondered how they had met – and when they'd met. Had they known each other since childhood? Had they studied together in college? Had she once been a doctor, too? And if she had passed away, was it because she'd been ill, or had there been an accident? Was that why Carlisle had left medicine?

 _Stop._ I shook my head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. Thinking about these things wouldn't lead anywhere. And the truth remained that I didn't even have the slightest idea of what had happened, because Carlisle had chosen not to talk about these things with me. It was likely he never would. Therefore, obsessing about these things was a waste of time.

When Carlisle didn't call me back on Sunday, I began to wonder what he was up to. I considered sending him a text before going to bed that night, but then, I decided against it. He was more than free to spend his weekend any way he liked. We weren't answerable to each other, after all, considering the nature of our relationship. He'd call me back when he felt like it.

But as Monday and Tuesday passed, and I heard nothing from him, I began to feel a little hurt and disappointed. I knew it was unreasonable and foolish, and I also knew the only reason why I felt like I did was because I had _expected_ to hear something from him by now.

I knew I had to stop having those. Expectations, that is. That way, I wouldn't end up so disappointed.

 _"I just realized that...I'll miss you. I hope I can see you soon."_

Those things he had said to me, when he'd dropped me off at the café on Friday...I now wondered if he had even meant those words. Who knew? Maybe I wasn't the first woman to hear that line.

When Wednesday passed and there was no sign of Carlisle, I began to prepare myself for the possibility I wouldn't see him again. Maybe he'd reached the same conclusion as I had and realized that, since our relationship would go nowhere, it would be better if he just cut off all communication. Maybe he thought he was doing me a favor. Maybe this was his idea of ripping off the band-aid.

I was working a late shift on Thursday night, when my decision not to have any expectations paid off. It was late in the afternoon. I was offering a refill to a group of men who were all dressed in black suits and looked like they were having a late conference, and then I heard the door of the café open.

I could have sworn I _felt_ him before I saw him. My skin began to tingle all over – it was like my whole body recognized his presence. I finished pouring coffee into the men's cups before I straightened myself, trying to ignore the way my whole body flooded with heat. Drawing in a deep breath, I turned around and began to make my way to the counter. I only managed a couple of steps before I had to look up and glance towards the door.

A certain blond man was standing close to the entrance, watching me. When I saw him, when my eyes met his, I stopped short. There was something different about him. He looked almost...unwell. The dark circles under his eyes seemed even more prominent, and his cheeks were slightly gaunt, like he had lost some weight. Maybe I'd memorized the curves and angles of his face a little too well, since I was able to tell the difference.

I walked the rest of the way to the counter, setting the coffee pot back into the machine. Meanwhile, Carlisle walked closer, and he gave me a tentative smile as I turned around. He was gauging my expression, apparently trying figure out how I felt about seeing him. To be honest, I no longer knew myself.

"Hey." His voice was quiet, and there was an apologetic note to it.

I tried to respond to his small smile, but I didn't know if I succeeded. "Hi. What's up?" I rolled my eyes at myself, then. I hadn't seen him in a week, and the first thing I could think of asking him was "what's up?"

Carlisle ran a hand through his hair; it was slightly wet. It was raining outside.

"Bella..." He drew in a deep breath and seemed to have decided to skip the pleasantries. "I'm sorry I didn't call you back on Sunday. I meant to, but–"

"It's fine," I answered, cutting him off softly. "You don't have to explain. And you don't owe me an apology – or an explanation, for that matter. We're not answerable to each other, after all. It's the best part about casual relationships, isn't it? No responsibility to anyone." I was pleased that my tone was light and even.

Carlisle was still gauging my expression; I wondered if he was trying to determine if my words were sincere. "Well, even if I didn't owe you an explanation, I want to give you one, nonetheless. I've been working later than normal, and then, a friend of mine turned up on Monday afternoon unannounced, and they ended up spending the night at my house."

"Oh. Okay." Maybe I was getting paranoid, but I wondered if he phrased it like that on purpose – it was like he didn't want to reveal if this friend of his was a man or a woman.

Yep. I was definitely getting paranoid.

I had to remind myself again that it didn't matter – it was none of my business. I turned around to take the coffee pot again, suddenly feeling like I needed something to do with my hands.

"Coffee?" I asked, lifting the pot.

Carlisle nodded. "Please."

"Cream, no sugar?"

"That's right." He chuckled softly, smiling. "You have a good memory."

"Sometimes. I always forget my dentist appointments, but I do remember how people take their coffee."

He gave a soft, amused laugh; it made him look less tired. He went to sit down at a table close by while I prepared his coffee, and as I took it to him, I noticed he was staring at the table in a pensive manner.

"Here you go."

My voice seemed to almost startle him, like he had been deep in thought just now. He gave me an absent smile and thanked me quietly.

"Are you alright?" I asked carefully, wondering if he was getting ill or something. Now that I saw him up close, I was even more sure he looked unwell.

He took a sip of his coffee. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

I shrugged, staring at him uncertainly. "Well...you kind of look like you have a hangover. Which can't be the case, since you said you don't drink. And besides, it's Thursday, not the weekend, so..." I gave a soft, nervous chuckle, wondering if I sounded offending.

"Oh." He gave me a reassuring smile. "It's nothing to worry about. I just have some work-related stress, that's all."

For some reason, I was sure he wasn't being honest, and it wasn't work that troubled him.

Carlisle asked me how my hand was healing, and I showed it to him.

"I don't have to use those dressings anymore. That ointment you gave me worked miracles."

He smiled, taking my hand to inspect it more closely. "I'm glad it helped. The burn has healed well. It looks good."

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen."

He chuckled and smiled. Before releasing my hand, he pressed a soft kiss on my knuckles. I hadn't expected that – maybe that was the reason why my heart began to hammer in my chest like a bird yearning to be free.

"You shouldn't do that, you know," I murmured. "Those guys over there," I nodded toward the table where the suit-wearing men were sitting, "will think customers are allowed to show open affection to the waitress."

Carlisle smiled. "You're right. I should be more careful." He reached out to touch the edge of my red apron, lightly brushing it with the tips of his fingers. "We wouldn't want to give them any ideas, would we?"

I suddenly remembered what he'd once said about me and my apron. That seeing me wear it had made him want to bend me over the table and...

Heat flooded into my cheeks. A small smile tugged at Carlisle's lips, his cornflower blue eyes darkening slightly. He was clearly thinking about the same thing I was.

"Uh...I'll leave you to enjoy your coffee," I managed to say, my voice ridiculously frail. It made him chuckle softly, and also look a little smug. I turned around, trying to take even, deep breaths to calm down my racing heart, quietly berating myself for reacting to his words that way. Was it normal that even his most innocent words could send my blood rushing and my heart running?

"Bella?"

I stopped, turning around slowly, determined not to make eye contact with him. There was a good chance he'd get me fired – when he looked at me like that, all I wanted to do was just go to him and kiss him senseless. And I was working. Working, working, working. I had to remember that.

"Yes?" I asked. "Would you like something with that coffee?"

Carlisle shook his head. "No, thank you. I wanted to ask how your week is looking. Are you free tomorrow?"

"I have a late shift."

"Can I see you after you get off? Or will you be too tired?"

His question pleased me more than it should have. It was irrational, really, to be this glad, just because he wanted to see me. "No, of course not. Would you like to come over?"

"I'd love to." He smiled, and my heart went all crazy again. A new customer came in right then, and I was suddenly grateful I had something else to focus on.

"Enjoy your coffee," I told him, giving him a small smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

After I'd served the customer who'd come in, I began to circle around the café to offer refills. My eyes kept going back to Carlisle's table; I noticed he seemed pensive again. He kept staring at the table, as he slowly nursed his coffee, rubbing a weary hand over his eyes now and then. As I began to collect empty cups from vacated tables, I decided to go and talk to him when I was done and ask if something was wrong. Maybe something had happened earlier this week. Why else would he be so...subdued?

Just as I was about to take away the tray laden with empty cups, I noticed his phone rang. He dug it out from his pocket and answered, listening intently for a moment, before nodding to himself. He got up, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder while he fished out his wallet, responding something to whoever was calling him. He threw a few bills on the table next to his cup, and when he noticed I was watching him, he gave me a soft smile. I gave him a wave as he turned to leave. My heart fluttered as he mouthed the word "tomorrow", before heading to the door and leaving the café, still holding the phone to his ear.

Sighing quietly, I went to his table to collect his empty cup. As I took the money from the table, I suddenly noticed there was something between the bills that didn't belong there. I put the money into the pocket of my apron, after slipping a wallet-sized photo from between the bills. I realized Carlisle must have dropped it in his hurry, or else it had somehow gotten stuck among the bills by accident.

I inspected the photo carefully. A small girl was staring back at me. Raven-black, unruly curls framed her pale, cherub-like face. She was so pretty she looked like a porcelain doll. I estimated the girl couldn't have been more than three or four when the photo had been taken. Her face was round and child-like, but also...kind of sculptural. She had high, elegant cheekbones, and her tiny, perfect mouth was turned up in an impish grin. She was...beautiful.

It wasn't just her obvious beauty that caught my attention. Her eyes...they were mesmerizing. They were a startling shade of blue. Not pale blue, like the springtime sky or forget-me-nots. They were the deepest of blue, like an ocean at its intense best. The deepest of blue, like fields full of cornflowers.

I knew those eyes; I'd recognize them anywhere. They were Carlisle's eyes.

I absently thought that the girl had to be a relative of his. Or maybe it was a picture of his sister when she'd been little? I realized I knew nothing about his family. He'd never mentioned his parents or if he had any siblings. I'd have to ask him about it.

I studied the photo for a moment more, noticing it was creased and dog-eared, as if it had been held and examined many times. Putting it into my pocket, I thought to myself that I'd have to remember to give it back to Carlisle when I'd see him tomorrow.

I was beat when I got home that night. After taking a quick shower, I practically fell into bed, not even bothering to dry my hair. I knew I'd probably regret that in the morning.

When sleep took me, I dreamed of a little girl with black, unruly hair and blue eyes.

* * *

When Carlisle came over the next evening, he seemed to look slightly better than the day before. I wondered what had been going on with him for these past couple of days. I certainly hadn't expected him to keep quiet for a full week, especially since he had said he hoped he could see me again soon, and even asked me to call him. Again, I found myself wondering if he had been at the cemetery on Sunday, when I'd tried to reach him. That didn't explain, though, why he hadn't called me back.

Maybe he'd just been busy with work, like he had said. Maybe there truly had been no good opportunity to call me back.

But then, there was that friend of his who had come for a visit unannounced, and apparently, had even stayed the night... A small voice in the back of my mind whispered to me that it was pretty uncommon for grown-ups to have impromptu sleepovers, but I silenced the voice by reminding myself he was allowed to have guests. Even if they were female guests.

Not that I knew if his guest had been a woman. It certainly wasn't my intention to ask about it.

Carlisle smiled warmly at me as I let him in, and the first thing he did was to place a soft, tender kiss on my cheek. And then, it was like he had never been gone at all. Suddenly, the week we'd spent apart didn't matter to me anymore, nor did it matter why he'd been gone. Now that he was here with me again, I began to feel very...warm.

He held up a bag of Chinese food. "Are you hungry? Or is it too late to eat?"

"It's _never_ too late eat. I'm starving – I just got home. Thank you."

"How was your day?" He placed the bag on the kitchen table and proceeded to take off his coat. I took it from him and hung it on the rack by the door.

"Busy," I answered. "And kind of frustrating. There was this customer who wanted to have a pastry with his tea – a pastry that had to be fat-free, gluten-free, sugar-free and basically everything-free. Our selection at the café is good, and we have a lot of gluten-free pastries, of course, and we even have pies, cakes and cookies that are low in sugar, but the guy began to rant at me nonetheless about the dangers of white flour and sugar. I don't _get_ it. I kind of wanted to tell him this is a _café_ , not the vegetable aisle."

Carlisle laughed. "Sounds like a challenging customer. No, Bella – you sit down."

I was just about to take out plates and glasses for us, but Carlisle put an arm over my shoulders and led me away from the cupboards, pulling out a chair for me.

I sat down and pursed my lips. "You're spoiling me."

He just smiled as a response, and I tried to ignore the way my heart fluttered at the sight. Man, I had missed him. Maybe more than I was willing to admit.

As we ate, Carlisle asked about my week, and he also wanted to know how last weekend had gone. When I told him I'd spent the entire day Saturday with Rosalie, he smiled softly, a twinkle in his eye.

"Lucky Rosalie," he murmured.

"And you?" I asked in turn. "Has your workload eased at all?"

He nodded, but he didn't say anything. He just gave me a reassuring smile and leaned across the table to pour me more water. I wondered what it was like to be a college professor. I was sure it was both rewarding and taxing.

When Carlisle took one of the cartons to offer me more noodles, I shook my head and declined.

"No, thanks. It was delicious, but I'm full. And besides, if I eat too much before going to bed, I sleep restlessly and have really strange dreams. And I've also been told I talk in my sleep. Like, a _lot_. I'm sure a heavy meal might make that even worse."

He gave a soft laugh. "Yes. I noticed last week."

Heat flooded into my cheeks. "Oh. What did I say? Or never mind, I don't want to know."

Carlisle smiled and got up, beginning to gather the dishes. I helped him, piling the empty food cartons and putting them in the trash.

"You said something about your mother, I believe," he answered after a while, as he rinsed our dishes in the sink. "And after a moment, you said something like, 'Emmett will protect me.'" He turned to look my way, arching a playful eyebrow at me. "Should I be jealous?"

I gave a soft laugh. "I told you about Emmett. He's Rosalie's boyfriend, so no jealousy required."

He smiled, reaching for the kitchen towel and drying his hands. "That's too bad. I'd have been more than ready to show you what it's like when my possessive side comes out."

I pretended to consider. "You know," I backpedaled, rubbing my chin in a thoughtful manner, "Emmett did open a door for me once, and he also winked at me. And then, one time, when I was going out together with him and Rosalie, he said I looked sexy in my tight jeans. So...go ahead. Possess away."

Carlisle chuckled, sauntering closer in a graceful flow of motion. Man, even the way he moved was always so...seductive. He stopped in front of me, putting his hands on my waist and leaning in to brush his mouth lightly over mine.

"You know, it _is_ troubling to hear some other man has looked at you and told you that you look sexy," he murmured in a low tone. "I find it very...inappropriate."

"Why?" I asked innocently, batting my eyelashes at him. "You don't think I look sexy?"

He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my back. "That's not what I said. Actually, I think..." he paused and dropped another soft kiss on my lips, before bending down and picking me up into his arms, "I think you look too damn alluring for your own good."

"Sorry. I can't help it. I was born this way."

He chuckled softly before claiming my lips again. I felt the motions of his body as he began to walk, and after a while, I heard the door of my bedroom creak as he pushed it open with his foot.

As Carlisle laid me down on the bed and began to assault my neck with his warm lips, his hands tugging at my clothes almost desperately, I idly thought to myself that I had missed this. That I had missed _him_. Maybe it was a bad thing – maybe I wasn't allowed to miss him. He wasn't mine to miss, after all.

The thought made me feel suddenly very empty, but as Carlisle claimed my lips in a torrid kiss, and as his arms held me even more tightly, all those thoughts were driven from my mind. The flush of heat inside me began to spread all over my body, and I let the sensation take me.

Maybe I was playing with fire. Maybe I'd get burned to ashes. But in that moment, I didn't care. There was only Carlisle's demanding lips against mine, his weight pressing me down into the bed, and our mutual flames no waters could quench.


	11. Unhappy Endings

_**A/N**_ _:_ _I know it's frustrating that Bella lets Carlisle get away with his behaviour (like when he didn't call her back, for instance, or how he clearly keeps things from her). She's also kind of out of her depth here, since casual relationships aren't something she's used to, and she's struggling to figure out what the rules are, if there are any. While this is not the "main theme" of this story, I wanted to bring this up through the characters, because I see it myself too often, how some people let others treat them more or less badly, and they don't call them on it, just because they're afraid of losing them._

 _None of these characters are perfect, and they have faults and insecurities, but that's part of humanity. Carlisle in this story isn't that perfect, close-to-flawless person he was in the books. He's still that same compassionate and considerate gentleman, but he's also weak and mentally exhausted, because he has simply been battling his demons too long. And when it comes to Bella, I didn't want her to be the doormat she sometimes was in the novels, but I also thought she shouldn't have this super good "Rosalie confidence," either. One of Bella's traits is insecurity, but I didn't want it to be her defining trait._

 _Once again, thank you for your reviews. Reading them is definitely the best part of my day. I've thought about taking up a habit of responding to every review individually, but so far, I haven't, because I'm a little afraid of unintentionally giving out spoilers... :)_

 _I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 _ **"Sometimes, people put up walls, not to keep others out, but to see who cares enough to break them down."**_

\- Banana Yoshimoto -

* * *

 **Unhappy Endings**

"I missed these."

Carlisle pressed a soft kiss on the curve of my breast. I smiled, rolling onto my side to face him.

"Just _these?"_ I asked in mock indignation and pointed at my breasts.

He gave a quiet laugh. "No. I missed _you_ as well."

I swallowed, trying to ignore the feelings his words aroused. "You know, when I didn't hear back from you, I thought that was it for us." Maybe it was the post-coital hormones that made me so honest; I certainly had not intended to reveal any of that to him. I didn't want him to know how much his sudden absence had affected me.

He gave me a soft, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry I was...gone," he murmured. "It wasn't my intention. And I'm sorry I didn't call you back. That was...very rude of me. I really was going to call, but..." he sighed quietly.

I watched him closely, hesitating. "Did something happen during the weekend?"

Carlisle frowned, averting his eyes from my gaze. "Why do you ask?"

I shrugged. "It's just that...you looked so strange yesterday. Like you'd been ill or something."

He still wouldn't look at me. "No, I haven't been ill. I've been just...busier than I expected to be. I was going to call you back on Monday, but then, that friend of mine showed up out of the blue. We usually inform each other beforehand about visiting."

"Do you see him often?" I asked, once again hesitating. "Or...her?"

Carlisle met my eyes, and it was a while before he answered. When he did, his voice was uncertain, careful. "It's a her," he confirmed, gauging my expression closely. "We...we get together every now and then. Maybe once every few weeks."

I wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Have you known each other for a long time?"

"Yes. Over twenty-five years. She's a good friend to me."

"Oh." I avoided his eyes, not knowing what to think about that. "Is she the architect you once mentioned? The one who worked on your house?"

Carlisle nodded. "Yes." When I didn't look at him, he reached out to touch my cheek. I met his eyes, covering his hand with mine and giving him a small smile.

"Well, I'm glad you have...a good friend." I realized my words were sincere, and I was suddenly thinking about Rosalie, knowing I'd be only half of myself if I didn't have her. "I worry about you sometimes, you see."

He frowned. "Why?"

I squeezed his hand. "I just do. You always look so tired and sad, and...I'm just glad you have someone to talk to."

He seemed taken aback by my words; I wondered how he had expected me to relate to this matter. He gave me a soft smile, and he seemed almost...relieved. Had he really been that worried about how I'd react to his female friend? If so...why? Why would he care how I thought about this?

His voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Do you have to work tomorrow?" I heard him ask.

I nodded. "Yeah. Saturday shifts suck. But the good thing is, the hours pass more quickly. Saturdays are usually very busy." I paused. Thinking about the café had made me suddenly feel like I had to remember something. Something important. "Oh! I can't believe I forgot!"

Carlisle gave me a confused glance as I got up. I fished my T-shirt and panties from the floor and pulled them on. Then, I went to the dresser on the other side of the room, grabbing the wallet-sized picture that was leaning against the mirror.

"You left something at the café yesterday," I told him as I turned around and made my way back to the bed, sitting down on the edge. I reached over the bed to give him the picture of the black-haired little girl. "Here. It was between the bills you left on the table."

Carlisle took the picture. His face went white so fast, it made me frown in concern. Something flashed in his eyes I couldn't identify. He didn't speak for a moment.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly after a while. "I...I keep it in my wallet – I didn't notice it was missing." His voice was oddly devoid of emotion as he spoke. He sat up, and I expected him to put the photo on the table beside the bed, but he got up, taking his pants from the floor and slipping the picture into the pocket, doing so very quickly but carefully, like the picture was something easily breakable.

"She's a beautiful girl," I said, observing him closely as he folded the pants over the back of a chair and picked up his boxers from the floor, pulling them on. "I noticed she has familiar eyes. Is she a relative of yours?"

It was a moment before Carlisle answered. "Yeah. Something like that." His voice was still oddly detached. He ran a hand through his hair, before giving me a brief look and turning away. "Excuse me."

I watched him as he made his way to the bathroom door. As he reached out for the handle, I thought I saw his hand tremble, but I could have been wrong. He slipped inside, closing the door behind him.

I lay back down on the bed, pulling the covers over me. Carlisle's reaction to the picture confused me a bit. I wondered what significance it might have had, and why he had been so quiet about it.

I glanced at the clock; it was close to midnight. Sighing, I set my alarm to wake me at six, and then, I tried to stay awake, while I waited for Carlisle to emerge from the bathroom. But after a few minutes, my eyelids began to feel too heavy, and I drifted off to shallow sleep before I even knew it.

I was vaguely aware of the bed dipping beside me, as Carlisle joined me moments later. I heard a quiet click as he turned out the bedside light, and then, the bed jostled slightly again, as he lay down beside me. Still half-asleep, I turned onto my side and reached for him. I felt his lips brush my forehead before he wrapped his arms around me and held me close.

I was so sleepy, I didn't realize that, for some reason, he was holding me tighter than usual.

* * *

When I woke up to my alarm the next morning, I turned it off quickly and got up as quietly as possible. Carlisle was fast asleep, and I decided that, since it was Saturday, I should keep it that way. I studied his peaceful face for a moment and reached out a hand as if to touch the dark circles under his eyes, once again wondering to myself when the last time was that he'd had a decent sleep.

I showered quickly before getting dressed and gathering my things. I made myself some coffee and had a quick breakfast, disregarding the fact that I had no appetite, and by the time I had to leave for the café, Carlisle was still sleeping. I wrote him a quick note that said I didn't have the heart to wake him up before leaving for work, telling him to help himself to coffee and anything in the fridge. I also wrote that I wouldn't mind at all if he was still in my bed – preferably naked – when I'd get home in the afternoon.

That image sustained me throughout the day. However, when I got to my apartment hours later, Carlisle's black SUV was no longer in the parking lot. I swallowed my disappointment as I got inside, but I perked up immediately as I spotted a note on the kitchen table. Throwing my keys on the counter and shrugging my bag off my shoulder, I took the note and smiled.

Beneath my own writing, there was a message written in neat, curvy letters. Damn. Even his handwriting was so sexy.

 _ **Bella,**_

 _ **I hope you had a pleasant day. The thought of staying in bed the whole day and waiting for you was more than tempting. Then, I came to think that I can make use of my time, and I decided to go to my house, so I could prepare you dinner. Nothing would please me more than to see** **you** **waiting for me in** **my** **bed tonight. I hope this will compensate for my absence, when you come home in the afternoon and find your bedroom empty.**_

 _ **If it's alright with you, I'll pick you up tonight at six. Give me a call if you're unavailable - it's certainly not my intention to hog you all to myself, though I find the thought very tempting.**_

 _ **Carlisle**_

 _ **P.S. I took a peek at your bookshelf while you were gone. I hope you don't mind. You have a wonderful collection - I'm very impressed. Why didn't you tell me you like reading? This is a passion we share.**_

Smiling, I placed the note back on the table and took my bag, heading for my bedroom to change. The small, occasional neat freak inside me purred as I saw Carlisle had made the bed. It was a small thing, but for some reason, it made me feel warm.

Carlisle was punctual to the minute. When he came to pick me up at six, he gave me one of his dazzling smiles, before placing a tender kiss on my cheek.

"You should've woken me before you left this morning," he told me. "I felt very bad for keeping you up so late yesterday. It's unfair that I got to sleep in, and you didn't."

I chuckled. "I didn't exactly complain last night, did I? Sleeping is overrated. I'd very much rather spend my night in bed with you and be fully awake, if you know what I mean." I pressed closer to him and wrapped my arms around him, running a hand along his backside. He hummed quietly before leaning in to press his mouth to mine.

"I think I do know what you mean," he murmured against my lips. "And perhaps you're right. Sleeping is a bit overrated." He placed one more kiss on my lips, before drawing back and smiling. "But now...there's dinner in my oven waiting to be shared. Are you hungry?"

"Starving. What did you make?"

"Pasta with sundried tomatoes and ground beef."

"Mmm. Pasta is my favorite thing in the whole world."

Carlisle smiled. "You're definitely my kind of woman, Bella."

His comment was playful and innocent, but it sent a squadron of butterflies loose in my stomach. I turned around to grab my coat and bag to distract myself from the feeling, hoping he hadn't noticed my reaction.

When we arrived at Carlisle's house a few minutes later, it was drizzling. He hurried to unlock the front door and held it open for me, and a delicious smell greeted me as I stepped inside. After Carlisle had taken my coat, he led me to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for me. Would I ever get used to his gentlemanly manners?

As expected, he didn't let me help with anything when I tried to offer. As he hustled around the kitchen, taking out plates and glasses, he gave me a searching look, asking me if I was tired.

"A bit," I answered. "The café is always crowded on Saturdays, so this is just what I needed – a quiet and calm night. Rosalie called me in the afternoon and asked me if I wanted to go clubbing with her and Emmett. Even the thought makes me want to pop caffeine pills. Maybe I'm getting old or something."

He chuckled appreciatively. As he grabbed an oven mitt from the counter, his eyes went suddenly blank; he looked like he had just remembered something. "Oh."

"What is it?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing. I was supposed to get the newspaper from the box on our way inside, but I forgot. I've been a little scatterbrained lately. I think I forgot to grab the mail yesterday as well."

"I'll get it for you," I offered and got up.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it tomorrow."

I was already making my way out of the kitchen. "But your paper is going to be all damp by then. It'll probably rain throughout the night. I'll get your mail. It's the least I can do, since you're not letting me help you in the kitchen."

He chuckled. "Alright. Thank you, Bella."

I hurried down the hall to the front door, leaving it open as I walked to the mailbox. He'd been right; yesterday's mail was still in there as well. I grabbed the paper and the few letters from the mailbox, holding them to my chest to keep them dry as I made my way back inside.

When I got back to the kitchen, Carlisle was just finishing setting the table. There was a large bowl of delicious-looking pasta in the middle. I wondered who had taught him to cook; everything looked wonderful. It looked like he wasn't new to domestic duties.

"Here you go." I placed the mail on the counter close to the stove.

"Thank you, Bella." He flashed me a warm smile. "Please. Have a seat."

I turned around towards the table, but then I noticed I had dropped one of the letters, and I crouched down to pick it up. I didn't intend to look at it more closely – that would have been impolite, after all – but my eyes happened to fall on the name of the sender on the upper left-hand corner of the envelope. For some reason, something about the handwriting caught my attention. It was elegant...and feminine. I put the letter on top of the others, but not before I had accidentally read the name of the sender. Esme Banner.

Esme. What a strange, beautiful name. It meant beloved; I remembered I'd read once it somewhere. I turned away, wondering who she was, but then, I shook those thoughts away. It was none of my business, after all.

I forgot about the whole thing soon after. The night was wonderful; after we'd eaten, Carlisle offered to show me the rest of the house, since we had never gotten around to finishing the tour the last time I was here.

My favorite room in the house turned out to be the library that also served as Carlisle's office. There was something different about the room; it must have been the color theme. The rest of the house was decorated and furnished with light, neutral color tones. But the library...the floor was dark hardwood, and the walls were paneled with rich mahogany. Not that you could see much of them – tall bookshelves covered every wall. Since the library was bigger than my bedroom, I estimated there had to be hundreds of books in this room, if not thousands.

Carlisle laughed softly as I stood there with my mouth open.

"I'd give practically anything to know what you're thinking about right now," he murmured. "Your expression...it's priceless."

I closed my mouth and drew in a deep breath. "I'm thinking about the note you left today. You said _my_ book collection is impressive. Now I know you were just trying to be polite."

He shook his head. "Of course not. I was being sincere. Quality over quantity, right?" He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, urging me to step inside. "Take a closer look. If you see something interesting, feel free to borrow it. My books are at your disposal."

I gave him a surprised look. "Really?"

He nodded, smiling. His blue eyes danced. " _Really_. I swear to God, Bella, I've never seen anyone get so excited over a room full of books. When I've brought guests here in the past, they've immediately turned away, yawning."

I chuckled. "Well, I'm not yawning. The nerd in me is doing a happy dance."

He laughed softly. "I can see that. And I meant what I said – you're free to borrow as many books as you want. You can go ahead and take a few with you right now, if you want."

I smiled. "Do you have recommendations?"

"Hmm." He went to the shelf that was close to his desk. "Are you looking for something light?"

"Sure. Nothing depressing. I tend to empathize too much with tragic characters."

Carlisle plucked three books from the shelf, and then he looked around for a moment, before pulling one more from the stacks. "I suggest you start with these," he said with a smile. "There's some tragedy in some of them, but the endings are relatively happy."

"Perfect. I'm a romantic – and a little naive – when it comes to these things. I don't always like books with unhappy endings, you see. I get why _some_ of them have to end badly, but...it's kind of depressing. I mean, if there are books that never receive a happy ending, how can people expect their lives to come to a fulfilling end? If happy endings don't exist even in fiction...how can they exist in real life?"

Carlisle frowned. "I don't know. I suppose…sometimes, there is no happy ending for everyone. That's how life works. It's sad, of course, but...it's true. It's a universal constant, really."

He stared at the floor at his feet for a while, lost in his thoughts. When he came out of it a moment later, and when he noticed I was watching him closely, he gave me an attempt at a smile.

"Listen to me, getting all deep and meaningful," he murmured and gave soft, joyless laugh. "You must think I'm silly." His voice was forcibly light. He offered me the books, and I took them, idly reading the titles.

"You know..." I began, giving him a long look. "Whenever you say something like that...well, you sound like you really know what you're talking about."

It was a moment before he answered. When he did, it seemed as if he was trying to look anywhere but into my eyes. "Perhaps," he murmured quietly. "I suppose I do know what I'm talking about. And sometimes...sometimes, I'd give practically anything if I didn't have to know."

He didn't say anything after that, and I decided not to push it. There was something in his eyes that gave me the feeling he wasn't here with me anymore. He had gone somewhere else, and I couldn't bring him back from that place. I wanted to, of course, but...for some reason, I felt as though there was a part of him that wanted to stay there. Like he would lose something important if he tried to leave that place behind.

What was that place he disappeared into every now and then? And why couldn't I reach him whenever he went there? Would I ever even catch a glimpse of that other world that only he seemed to know about?

I didn't have an answer to that question. I knew I had to accept the fact that I might never have it. The thought made me...sad. Like I had lost something before I'd even gained it.

I spent the night at his house. When I woke up the next morning, Carlisle was already awake; it didn't surprise me. He pressed a soft kiss on my cheek when I opened my eyes, and then he was pulling the covers away from my body, his hands immediately exploring and caressing my bare skin. We'd ended the previous night by being wrapped around each other, and it seemed as though it was his intention to start a new day in the same fashion. I didn't mind.

Because in those moments, when I got to have him so close to me, that dark place that took him away from me didn't seem to exist. In those moments, when we were skin to skin, I was his, and he was mine, and nothing and no one else seemed to exist.

* * *

As the days passed, Carlisle and I came to form a comfortable pattern without even noticing it. We didn't spend a single night apart; he spent a few nights a week at my apartment, and then, I stayed a few days at his house in turn. We even began to leave clothes at each other's places, and there was more than one occasion when I was going through my closet and trying to find my sweater, for instance, and Carlisle had to remind me I'd left it in his bedroom the previous day.

I sometimes wondered if it bothered him that I left my stuff lying around at his house, but he didn't seem to mind. Then again, he had begun to leave _his_ things at my apartment as well. One morning, when I was getting ready to leave for work, I noticed he had left a razor and a can of shaving cream on the bathroom counter. It was a small thing, but still, it felt like we had reached a new level of intimacy. It made me happy.

Way too happy.

I sometimes thought to myself that I could get used to this. Having him almost constantly around was...nice. Actually, it was more than nice. I knew I liked it more than I should. I didn't want to kid myself, though. I knew no matter how much I enjoyed this new pattern of ours, and no matter how much Carlisle seemed to enjoy it as well, it didn't mean this would last forever. Whenever I thought about that, I had to remind myself to take it one day at a time, and just try to enjoy this as long as it lasted.

I came to notice that, no matter where we spent the night, whether it was at my place or his, it seemed to me like Carlisle almost never slept. There had been more than one occasion when I had gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, for instance, and almost every time, he would be sitting on the edge of the bed, fully awake. Once or twice, I woke up and realized he wasn't even in the room, and when I got up to check if he'd gone to get a drink of water or something, I'd found his clothes and shoes were gone.

It made me realize that maybe he took walks at night more often than I'd thought. He usually came back in an hour or two, undressed quietly, and then slipped back into bed next to me, sometimes reaching out to touch me lightly or caress my hair, as if to make sure I was still there.

I didn't know if he still had nightmares – it could have been that I'd slept through them. Needless to say, all this worried me. A long-term lack of sleep had to be harmful, after all. I'd tried to talk to him about it, but he always brushed it off by saying he had gotten used to his sleeping problems, and I had no reason to worry about him.

He must have picked up on my growing concern, though. Once or twice, I noticed he had tried to pretend he was asleep, if I happened to wake up in the middle of the night. I didn't know how to feel about that. I didn't want him to start pretending and hiding his problems from me – it was the last thing I wanted. He kept enough secrets from me as it was.

"You're not fooling me, you know," I murmured one night, when I was staying over at his house. The illuminated clock on the nightstand told me it was almost two in the morning.

There was a beat of silence.

"What do you mean?" Carlisle asked quietly.

"I mean, I'm fully aware you're awake. Your breathing is too steady."

He gave a soft chuckle. " _Too_ steady? How can one's breathing be _too_ steady?"

"It's _unnaturally_ steady. It doesn't sound like you're sleeping, it sounds like you're doing yoga or something."

That made him laugh loudly. "Really?"

"Uh huh. I'll give you a pointer. If you're going to try to pretend you're asleep, you should at least snore a bit every once in a while."

"Oh. Like you?"

I grabbed my pillow and tried hit him with it, but aiming was a bit hard, since it was dark. Carlisle broke into quiet laughter, grabbing my wrists and trying to stop my pillow attack. He pulled me against him, wrapping his arms around me after prying the pillow from my grasp. His naked skin against mine felt heavenly.

"I was only joking," he chuckled. "You don't snore, Bella. You may have very interesting, one-sided conversations in your sleep, but you don't snore. I promise."

"Apologize."

He laughed again. His hands began to slide along my bare back and came to rest on my waist. His nose nuzzled mine. "Alright. I'm terribly sorry. That was no way to talk to a lady...no matter how loudly she snores." Laughter bubbled from his lips again, as I dug my fingers into his ribs – hard. I didn't let up, until he was gasping for breath.

A minute later, he was still breathing heavily. "My God, Bella," he chuckled. "You're probably the only person in the world who can make me laugh at two in the morning."

I smiled. "That's me. I'm entertaining and full of surprises. Here's another one." I rolled onto my back and turned on the bedside light. Carlisle blinked at the sudden brightness, giving me a confused glance, as I got up and began to dress. I picked up his pants from the floor and threw them at him.

"Get your clothes on," I told him, smiling softly.

He frowned confusedly, sitting up. "What are you up to?"

"Well..." I put on my T-shirt and fastened my jeans, before bending down to pull on my socks. "One of the first things I learned about you was that you're a poor sleeper, and you find night walks soothing. So, that's what we're going to do now. We'll take a walk."

Carlisle scratched his head. "At two in the morning?"

"Yep. Don't tell me it'd be the first time you did it."

"It wouldn't," he admitted. "But Bella, you have to be at the café in the morning. You have an early rise tomorrow. Or today, to be exact."

"The same goes for you," I pointed out. "You have an early class, don't you?"

"Yes, but–" He didn't manage to finish; I tossed his shirt across the room, and he grabbed it, giving me another baffled look, as I made my way out of his bedroom.

"Hurry up, Carlisle. You're not getting any younger."

I heard him give a quiet chuckle, and a moment later, he emerged from his bedroom, fully dressed. I was waiting for him by the front door; I already had my shoes and coat on. He gave me one more confused smile, as he went to the hall closet and pulled out his coat.

"Are you always this unpredictable?" he asked me as he grabbed his keys.

"Only when the situation demands it." I opened the door and waited for him to follow me outside. Carlisle gave a soft laugh, before stepping out and locking the door behind us.

As we walked down the silent street in front of his house, our pace unhurried, I could sort of understand why he found night walks soothing. I had always loved Seattle when it was awake, but I realized I also liked it when it was asleep. We were far enough from the downtown madness, but every once in a while, the distant sound of cars reached our ears.

I turned to look at Carlisle. His hands were thrust into his pockets, and his eyes were on the pavement. It took a while more until he sensed my gaze.

"Are you feeling soothed yet?" I asked, smiling softly.

He gave a quiet laugh. "I'm getting there, I suppose." He paused, glancing down at his feet. Our unhurried pace slowed even more, as he brought his head up to gaze at me. "You know, Bella, you must be the first person to offer to take a walk with me in the middle of the night, just because I find it calming. No one else has ever offered to do this for me before."

I watched him closely. "Have you given anyone a chance?"

He seemed taken aback by my words. "No. I suppose I haven't," he murmured after a while.

I nodded in a thoughtful manner. "Can I ask you something?"

A guarded look came over his face, but he nodded. I drew in a deep breath, giving him a searching look, as I tried to think of a way to phrase my question.

"Do you... Well, I know you've done a lot of dating. Or maybe not _insanely_ a lot, but..." I shook my head and tried to gather my thoughts. "Anyway. When we were talking about relationships a couple of weeks ago, you said you're not cut out for that sort of thing, and then you said you've tried to change that, multiple times. And I was wondering...how have those things come to an end in the past? Do you always break up with women, or do women break up with you?"

Carlisle frowned. He wasn't looking at me, but I had a feeling he wasn't trying to avoid my gaze. He just seemed to be deep in thought.

"Well, sometimes, the women I've dated in the past have come to the decision to end things with me. But..." He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But usually, it's me who brings it up first. Sometimes, they've been surprised and disappointed, and sometimes, they've agreed and told me parting ways was a good idea."

I looked ahead of me, thinking about the things he'd said. Hesitating, I glanced at him again, noticing he was watching me, maybe trying to gauge my reaction. "And what is it that makes you bring it up?" I asked quietly. "What happens? What changes that makes you suddenly decide you should end the current relationship? You don't have to answer...if you don't want to."

He considered my question for a long moment. "You know, I'm not sure if I _can_ answer that. It's not any specific thing that makes me realize that, maybe I should be alone. Nothing in particular happens, really. It's just this feeling that comes over me, I suppose. It overwhelms me and..." he frowned down at the pavement. "And then, I always realize I'm right back where I started. That it'll always be this way, no matter where I am, no matter how much time passes.

"I've thought about it a lot during these past couple of months, actually. A large part of me feels that, maybe it's wrong to start any type of relationships with anyone, since I know how every single one of them is going to end. But then again, the women I've dated have always wanted to keep things casual. Since they haven't expected anything more from me, I haven't felt like I've been leading them on. But still...still, for some reason, everything about the whole thing makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, and then, I realize that maybe I should just stay alone."

"But you don't want that. To be alone."

He hesitated. "It's...it's difficult to explain. Sometimes, I feel like I need it. Loneliness. I feel like it's the only thing that keeps me...sane. But at the same time...at the same time, I feel like it's suffocating me."

I reached out to take his hand. He gave me a sad smile, and for some reason, he looked like he was almost embarrassed about his confession. Like he had just revealed some terrible weakness he'd wanted to keep hidden.

"There's nothing wrong about feeling lonely," I murmured softly. "There's nothing wrong about feeling the need to be with someone."

His eyes were on the pavement again. "But that's the thing. I'm lonely...even when I'm with someone."

"Why is that?" I asked softly.

He shook his head slowly, not answering. Then, he let out a long, unsteady breath. He withdrew his hand from my grasp, as if to distance himself from me and my question. It hurt more than it should have.

Carlisle gave me a distracted half-smile, before stopping and turning to me. "We should get back," he murmured quietly. "We'll both have to be up in a couple of hours."

I nodded wordlessly and turned around. As we began to walk back to his house, he surprised me by drawing me under his arm. There was some sort of urgency in his touch, despair, almost like he was expecting me to disappear any moment. It seemed even more strange, since he had withdrawn his hand from mine a moment ago. It made me think about what he had said about loneliness – that he felt lonely, even when he was with someone. And when I had asked why...I wondered why he had reacted the way he had.

But then again, it had been a rather personal question.

We were silent when we arrived at Carlisle's house minutes later. It bothered me a bit, that silence. It was full of unanswered questions. Maybe Carlisle noticed my mind was still on our conversation; he did the only thing that could distract me. As we made our way to his bedroom and I began to strip off my clothes, his arms wrapped around me from behind. I shivered as his lips went to my neck, before pressing soft kisses along the angle of my jaw.

As I turned around in his embrace, and my hands began to work on his clothes, I thought to myself that I'd do practically anything to keep him from feeling lonely ever again. I didn't know where that thought came from, and I had to remind myself once again he wasn't mine to fix.

No matter how much I wanted it to be otherwise.


	12. Surprises

_**"Was it hard?" I ask. "Letting go?"**_

 _ **"Not as hard as holding on to something that wasn't real."**_

\- Lisa Schroeder, _I Heart You, You Haunt Me_ -

* * *

 **Surprises**

"So, what do you want to do on Friday?"

I rolled my eyes at Rosalie's question. "Nothing. I'll probably be recovering from my shift."

"Do you have to work late?"

"No. I have a morning shift."

She grinned. "Well, even better. You can rest a couple of hours after you get off, and then we can party the rest of the night."

"Rosalie," I moaned. "I'm too old for partying. Please, at least don't make me go clubbing with you."

"Bella, you turn twenty-five on Friday, not sixty. Get a grip." She took a sip from her coffee, giving me a mock glare. "And we don't have to go clubbing if you don't want to. It's _your_ birthday, after all. All I'm asking is that we celebrate it _somehow._ Or do you have plans with Carlisle?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure if he even remembers my birthday. I mentioned it a couple of weeks ago, but it could be he's forgotten about it by now."

"Well, remind him about it. Oh, I know! How about if I make reservations at our favorite restaurant. I bring Emmett, you bring Carlisle, and we can have some sophisticated, adult fun. No clubbing or boozing required."

I considered it. "Well, that doesn't sound too very bad. I'll ask him, but I'm not sure if he's willing to do the meet-my-friends thing."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Bella. I know you two are just fooling around, but it's not like you're going to ask him to marry you or something. Casual relationship or not, it's completely okay for you to ask him to spend your birthday with you."

I raised my hands in surrender. "Fine. I'll ask him." I glanced at the clock and got up from my seat. "I have to go. My break's over."

Rosalie took a bite of the salad she'd brought with her. "See you on Friday."

I straightened my apron. "See you. But hey," I pointed a finger at her, "I have one condition. No presents."

"You keep insisting on that every year, and you always lose. Honestly, Bella, when will you learn this is something you don't get to decide?"

I sighed and hung my head in defeat. "Fine. Just don't go crazy, please?"

"Can't promise anything."

Chuckling and shaking my head, I got back to work and left her to enjoy her salad.

I brought up my birthday when I saw Carlisle that evening. He was spending the night at my apartment; it was the second night in a row. I liked our new pattern. We'd spend two or three nights at his house, and then, he'd stay at my place for the next couple of days. It was nice to come home after a late shift and see the lights were on. It was just a tad hard to focus on work, when I knew Carlisle was waiting for me at home. I'd had more than a few fantasies about him during the long hours I had spent serving customers. They were slightly distracting, those fantasies.

The best thing was, those fantasies were nothing compared to reality.

 _Yes...I definitely prefer the reality_.

This was the only thought I could form later that night, after separating from a heated tumble in the sheets. Still catching my breath, I rolled onto my side and propped my head up with my hand. My head was still spinning and my body tingling from our previous activities, and I chuckled as I noticed Carlisle had thrown an arm over his eyes; he seemed to have trouble regulating his breathing as well.

Inching closer to him, I draped myself over his chest, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Give me a moment," he mumbled against my lips, "and I'll be ready for round two."

I gave a soft laugh. "Aren't you a little too old for round two so soon after–"

I didn't manage to finish my sentence. I suddenly realized that, instead of hovering over him, I was pinned to the mattress. Carlisle's breath was hot against my lips. I could literally feel his every muscle as he trapped my body with his own.

"Too old, huh?" he murmured in a low tone. "I can show you what old men like me are truly capable of. Would you like that, young Bella?"

His tone made shivers dance up my spine. I just stared at him, my mouth hanging slightly open. "Um...sure?"

He grinned at my bewilderment. Then, he cradled my head with his hands, before claiming my lips with his. I moaned quietly, wrapping my arms around his back as his lips moved to my neck.

"You know," I said playfully, my voice breathless, "you called me young just now, but I'm not sure if I'm that young anymore. I turn twenty-five on Friday. If I live to be one hundred, it means that, one quarter of my life is over. If I live to be ninety–"

Carlisle chuckled and shook his head, his kisses ceasing. "Bella, stop. You should be thinking about the time you have _left,_ not the time that's behind you." He shook his head again. "Twenty-five...you're still so very young. You still have so many good things ahead of you. When I was your age..." he trailed off, smiling, but suddenly, that smile turned into a frown.

And then, he wasn't here with me anymore. I reached up to touch his cheek, as he kept staring off into space.

"Where'd you go?" I asked quietly. He seemed to snap out of it, and he shook his head slightly, as if to get rid of some unpleasant thought, giving me a small smile. It didn't reach his eyes. It never did.

"What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

I bit my lip, hesitating. "Sometimes, if I happen to say something specific – or if you say something yourself – you seem to...well, you seem to go to some place no one else has access to. It's like you're momentarily trapped there." I paused, observing him. "Or maybe not even momentarily. Maybe you're _always_ there, but you just try to pretend you're not."

I didn't notice at first that Carlisle had stopped breathing. His eyes were distant as he kept staring blankly over my shoulder. After a moment, he drew in a slow breath, before meeting my gaze. He opened his mouth to say something, but he seemed to struggle with words.

I brought my forefinger to his lips, tracing the outline of his mouth with a light caress. "You don't have to explain, if you feel like you don't want to," I murmured softly; the distress in his eyes made me ache. "I'm just worried about you sometimes, that's all. And I just...I just kind of hope you have someone you can talk to about the things that trouble you. It doesn't have to be me. But it'd put my mind at ease if I knew you talked to _someone_ about those things."

He began to bite his lip; I'd never seen him do that before. It took me a moment to realize he did that to hide the tremble of his lips. He dipped his head, and I heard him draw in another slow, forcibly controlled breath.

"You don't have to worry about me, Bella," he said after a moment, his voice quiet and a little too even. "But...but if it eases your mind...I do talk to someone about...things."

I reached up to twine my fingers in his hair. "Okay. It's good to know that."

He raised his head again, supporting his weight on his other elbow, as he took my hand and removed it from his hair. His eyes went to the long scar on the inner side of my arm, his thumb gently tracing the uneven skin.

"We all have these," he murmured quietly, his blue eyes studying the scar. "Mine just don't happen to be...visible."

That surprised me; I hadn't expected him to say something like that. His quiet words seemed almost open, given the fact that he was usually so remote when it came to things that haunted him.

"I beg to differ," I answered quietly. "I think your scars...they are visible. I see them all the time...in here." I reached up to trace the shape of his eyes with the tip of my finger. "Your eyes...they're always so sad. I don't know what put that sadness in there...and I don't know if it'll ever go away. I wish it would, though."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Bella."

I didn't know what to say to that. What was there to say? Denying his words, contradicting him, would have been disrespectful.

I watched him closely, and momentarily considered telling him about finding his ring. If his wife had really died...if her death was the reason why that sorrow in his eyes would never go away...maybe it would change things, if he knew that I knew. Maybe it would make him feel like he didn't have to hide things from me. Maybe...

I sighed inwardly, stopping my internal debate. For some reason, I kept feeling like it was his decision – his _right_ – to bring this up when he wanted to. _If_ he wanted to. I didn't want to hurt him by touching on a sensitive topic.

I suddenly realized that, maybe he found my company pleasant because of this. Because I knew nothing about the things that tormented him. Maybe I was a reprieve from an endless nightmare. Maybe he found it easier to be in the company of someone who knew practically nothing about him.

Maybe that was why he was with me in the first place. Why he had agreed to this whole relationship.

The feeling of a soft fingertip tracing the shape of my lips pulled me from my ponderings. Carlisle was watching me intently, almost like he was trying to figure out what was going on in my head. A soft smile began to play on his lips.

"So." His voice was lighter now; it seemed like he was more than eager to change the subject. "Do you have any birthday plans? Or is it a wise idea at all to celebrate a birthday on Friday the 13th?"

I chuckled. "Well, like I told you all those weeks ago, I'm a trouble magnet. Nothing will ever change that. I'm sure Western superstition doesn't make things exactly easier for me, but I have a feeling Rosalie will skin me alive if I don't celebrate my birthday in some way, Friday the 13th or not." I paused, giving him a look. "You know, she was planning on making reservations at a nice restaurant. She's bringing Emmett, and...well, I was wondering if you were able to accompany us? Or do you have other plans?"

Carlisle smiled. "Of course not. I'd love to come. It's your birthday, after all." He leaned in to place a soft kiss near my ear. It made me shiver. "Are you going to wear that gorgeous black dress?"

I frowned. "What dress?"

He pulled away and chuckled. "You know, that dress you were wearing, when I saw you and Rosalie at the restaurant that night."

"Oh." For some reason, my thoughts went immediately to the woman I'd seen him with that night. Kate. I remembered how jealous I'd been; I was finally able to admit that.

I noticed Carlisle was watching me closely; there was an amused twinkle in his eyes. Maybe he knew what I was thinking about. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to return to the topic at hand.

"Uh...you liked the dress I was wearing?" I asked, looking at him curiously.

He nodded, smiling. "You know, maybe it makes me a jerk, given the fact that I was on a date with someone else that night, but when I saw you, I couldn't help but think how beautiful you looked." He touched my cheekbone with the back of his hand. There was something utterly tender about the touch.

I swallowed, suddenly realizing my cheeks were flaming. It made him smile even wider. I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way my heart was racing. "Fine, you sweet talker. I'll wear the dress. But only if you rip it off me later – that's the only birthday present I want, you know."

He chuckled, placing a soft kiss on my lips. "You're a greedy woman, Isabella Swan," he murmured against my mouth. His hands were suddenly grabbing my hips, and in one smooth motion, he reversed our positions. My long hair pooled on his chest as I leaned over him, straddling his hips.

"What time will I pick you up?" he asked. I trembled as his fingertips brushed across the skin at the small of my back.

"I'll have to check with Rosalie."

"Do that." His voice was pitched lower than normal, and I shivered as his hands slid from my lower back to my hips, before slowly caressing the curve of my backside.

I was suddenly looking forward to my birthday very much.

* * *

I'd never liked any fuss, and I was a little surprised when I found myself in good spirits when I woke up on Friday morning. It was strange to wake up alone, though; Carlisle and I had deviated from our new, pleasant pattern and spent the previous night apart. He'd told me yesterday he would be out of town for the night. I hadn't asked what he had been doing, or where he had gone, even though I'd been curious. And since he hadn't offered to explain, I had pushed the matter aside.

I suddenly realized I could hardly wait for the evening to arrive. Carlisle would pick me up sometime before seven, and we'd meet Rosalie and Emmett at the restaurant.

I went through my morning routines with a huge smile on my face. Before leaving for work, I went to my closet and pulled out the black dress I was going to wear tonight. I was suddenly very glad I'd worn it, when I'd seen Carlisle at the restaurant all those weeks ago; it pleased me a great deal that he remembered what I'd looked like.

Even though the day was busy, it seemed to pass slower than usual. I kept checking the clock, hoping time would speed up. It didn't, of course – watching the clock made the hours pass even more slowly. When my lunch break came, I went into the backroom to get my phone; I'd forgotten it in my bag. There was a message from Carlisle, and I opened it quickly, feeling like a giddy school girl. But as I read it, my stomach seemed to drop through the soles of my feet.

 _ **Bella,**_

 _ **I'm terribly sorry, but it seems I won't be able to make it tonight. Something sudden has come up. I hope you understand. Have a good time with Emmett and Rosalie.**_

 _ **Happy birthday.**_

 _ **Carlisle.**_

I let out a long sigh, shoving the phone back into my bag. I felt more disappointed than I should have, and I was also getting a little pissed off as well, no matter how much I tried not to feel resentful. He'd said something sudden had come up. What could have happened? It wasn't just an excuse, was it?

But what if it was? Why hadn't he explained what had happened? If I had to cancel on someone – on their _birthday!_ – I sure as hell would offer an explanation.

I was no longer hungry, but I forced myself to eat some of the salad I had made this morning. I was glad when my lunch break was finally over, because it meant I'd get to go back to work. The café was crowded, and I welcomed the distraction. I considered offering to work longer hours today, just to drown my disappointment, but I realized I couldn't do that to Rosalie. She'd be disappointed if I didn't turn up tonight.

When my break came in the afternoon, I sent her a quick text and told her Carlisle had canceled and asked her if she and Emmett could pick me up on their way to the restaurant. She answered right away and told me they'd pick me up at seven, and it puzzled me a bit, when she didn't ask why Carlisle had canceled. I'd expected her to start interrogating me right away.

I somehow got through the rest of my shift. When I made my way home in the afternoon, I felt oddly drained. The thought of getting through the night was tiresome, and I hoped Rosalie and Emmett wouldn't see how disappointed I was, how much it would have mattered to me to have Carlisle there tonight.

 _Get over it. He must have a good reason to cancel on me._ _It's not the end of the world._

Sighing, I got out of my truck and made my way to the door of my apartment. It was only after I had unlocked the door, opened it and stepped inside, that I had this sudden, vague feeling that something was amiss. I was in the middle of shrugging off my coat when I realized it; the apartment was darker than it should have been.

Someone had closed all the drapes.

Frowning confusedly, one arm still in the sleeve of my coat, I took two steps further and stepped into the kitchen. The lights flashed on at once.

" _SURPRISE!"_

I startled so badly, I nearly bit my tongue off. I pressed a hand over my chest, feeling like my heart was about to race right through my ribcage. I vaguely realized my bag had slipped from my other hand and gave a soft thump as it landed on the floor.

My eyes took in my small kitchen; there were ridiculously colorful birthday decorations hanging from the walls and the ceiling, from _everywhere_ , and the table and the counters were covered in food and drinks.

I blinked and stared at the small group of people gathered close to the table. Emmett was grinning at me brightly, his arm wrapped around Rosalie. Beside her stood...

Carlisle. His blue eyes glimmered with amusement as he observed my reaction.

"Wh-What is this?" I asked feebly, stuttering. "I mean... _what is this?"_

"It's a surprise, like we said," came a familiar voice on Carlisle's left. It wasn't until then that I realized who all was in the room. "Weren't you paying attention?"

" _Mom?"_ I asked, blinking slowly.

Renée crossed the kitchen with a few quick strides and wrapped her arms around me. "Happy birthday, sweetheart." I hugged her back, staring over her shoulder at the three people who were now exchanging smiles. They were evidently enjoying my state of shock.

My eyes found Rosalie's. "You did this," I realized, as my mother pulled back and kissed my cheek. "That whole talk about going to a restaurant...you've been tricking me all week long. And _you!_ " I shot a look at Carlisle, causing him to smile sheepishly. "You sent me that message today and made me believe you'd canceled!"

He chuckled. "Guilty."

"Unbelievable." I shook my head and turned to Renée again. She quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Are you surprised?" she asked, smiling.

"Well – _yeah_." I gave a soft laugh, gesturing at the decorations. "I mean...this is too much. Wow. Way too much."

"Oh, come on. It's not every day you turn twenty-five." Renée pressed another kiss on my cheek. "Charlie couldn't make it – he had to work."

I flicked Carlisle a look, idly wondering to myself what would have happened _if_ my dad had been here. I had a feeling he might have a few things to say about me dating an older man. Which begged the question...

I gave Renée a questioning look. "Uh...have you all been introduced?"

"Yes," she responded, smiling slyly and glancing Carlisle's way. "You, young lady, have been holding out on me. If you know what I mean."

I gave an uneasy laugh, hoping she would let it be. Of course, I hadn't told her about me and Carlisle, mainly because this thing of ours wasn't serious. To my relief, she didn't press the matter.

The evening was wonderful. I saw my mom so rarely that getting to spend time with her was a gift in itself. Speaking of gifts... As expected, Rosalie had chosen to ignore my request not to get me anything – she and Emmett gave me a gift certificate to a local bookstore. When I opened Renée's gift, I found myself swallowing back tears. It was a large, handmade quilt.

"You need something to keep you warm in this gloomy, rainy city," she said to me with a twinkle in her eyes.

I shook my head, astonished. "It must have taken forever to make this. Thank you." I gave her a tight hug, smiling. "But it's not so gloomy here. It's raining all the time, I admit, but I don't mind that. It reminds me of Forks and Charlie, after all."

Renée pulled away and placed a quick kiss on my cheek. "Speaking of Charlie...he told me to tell you his gift will arrive in the mail later."

I noticed Emmett had engaged Carlisle in a conversation; they seemed to be getting along well. It still surprised me how they had managed to arrange all this behind my back. It had to have been Rosalie's idea. I wondered how long Carlisle had known about this surprise party, and where Rosalie had gotten his number in order to orchestrate this. I also wondered what my mom had thought, when she'd met Carlisle and found out who he was, and _what_ he was to me. She didn't seem to disapprove at all – my mom was great that way – but I saw from her eyes that she had some questions. I noticed she watched Carlisle closely for a moment, before she exchanged a look with Rosalie. It confused me. I forgot about it soon, though. I saw Emmett elbowing Carlisle in a brotherly manner; it was almost like they had known each other far longer than just a couple of hours. But then again, Emmett got along with everyone.

It took me a moment to realize Emmett was nudging Carlisle's arm because he was ushering him forward. "Your turn. Go on, she's not getting any younger, is she?" He threw me a wide smirk.

"Gee, thanks, Emmett." I rolled my eyes at him. Carlisle chuckled softly, slowly making his way to me.

"You'll get my gift a little later, if that's alright," he told me with a soft smile. He pulled me into a warm embrace and placed a quick kiss on my cheek – maybe he felt too self-conscious to kiss me on the mouth in front of my mother. "Happy birthday, Bella."

"Thank you. But you didn't have to get me anything, Carlisle. Really."

He only smiled. "It's just this small thing. Don't worry – I already know you well enough not to buy you a yacht or something."

That made me chuckle. "Well, I'm glad."

I had to admit, I was a little curious about what he had gotten for me, but apparently, I had to wait for a while to find out. The evening flew by surprisingly quickly, and I finally had to admit that maybe birthdays weren't so bad, after all. Rosalie had promised me sophisticated, adult fun, and that was what I had gotten.

The only thing she had gone overboard with was food – there was too much of it. It confused me a bit, since she was very organized about these things, but then, I learned Emmett had been in charge of food and snacks, and my confusion ended there.

"Thank you," I told Rosalie, when she was pouring me more Coke.

"You're welcome."

"No, I mean, thank you for everything. For this evening. And for getting my mom here. I know you're the mastermind behind all this. Only _you_ could manage to surprise me this way on my birthday. This was just what I needed."

She smiled. "I'm glad you like this. I did wonder how you might react, since you hate surprises, but..."

I shook my head and gave a soft laugh. "Well, this surprise was definitely a very pleasant one."

Rosalie was about to say something, but then, she looked over my shoulder, quirking her eyebrows. I turned and saw Emmett coming from the living room. He gave me a wink before pressing a quick kiss on Rosalie's lips.

"Is there any beer left, babe?"

"Check the fridge. How many have you had, anyway? I'll have to cut you off soon."

"Hey, _someone_ has to drink those beers," he said, mock-defensively. "You only had one, Bella doesn't like beer, and Renée doesn't drink anything but Coke, because it's the only beverage that doesn't put her to sleep. Even Carlisle refused when I offered him one." He gave me a glance and quirked his eyebrows; in his universe, if a man refused a beer, there had to be something wrong with him.

"Uh...yeah. Carlisle doesn't drink," I told him.

"Not even beer? Why not?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I never asked."

He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, as he pulled another beer from the fridge. I poured Coke into another glass, so he could take it to Carlisle.

"Maybe he thinks getting drunk is for teenagers," Rosalie stated and looked at Emmett pointedly. "Or maybe he actually _acknowledges_ the fact that he has to drive home."

Emmett blinked. "What? I'm good. I can drive us home."

Rosalie sighed and shook her head, but she was smiling. "Yeah. I don't think so."

He returned her smile. "Don't worry, babe. I'm not going to get drunk. Wouldn't want to forget some...things that have happened." He winked at her and leaned closer to capture her lips.

"Ugh. Lovebirds everywhere," I mumbled, feigning disgust. Emmett chuckled as he broke away from Rosalie's mouth, and then he turned to me, puckering up his lips very comically, as if to kiss me, too. "Okay, that's definitely your last beer tonight."

"Aw, don't be like that. I'm just trying to celebrate your aging in a proper manner."

"My _aging?_ You really know how to talk to women, don't you."

"Yep. I'm the one with the words. Just ask Rose."

Rosalie laughed softly. I shook my head, amused. When Emmett disappeared into the living room again, I noticed there was a strange glimmer in her eyes as she watched him walk away. And the smile on her lips was somehow...different. I realized I had never seen that look on Rosalie's face before, and I pretty much knew her every expression.

"What's up?" I asked her, sipping my Coke.

She snapped out of it, shaking her head. "Nothing. Why?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. You looked a little funny just now, that's all. Like you just discovered the meaning of life, or something equally grand."

She smiled and shook her head again, before turning away. "You're imagining things."

I stared at her and stayed silent until she turned to face me again. The small smile on her lips still hadn't left. The soft look in her blue-green eyes was familiar; I realized the last time I'd seen that look, she'd just met Emmett.

"What's going on with you?" I asked, lowering my voice. "Tell me."

"Nothing's going on. Why do you ask?"

"Because you kind of look like you've had a few glasses of some quality wine, which I know is not the case now. Come to think of it, you've been smiling like that the whole evening. I just realized it."

"Well, of course I'm smiling. It's your birthday, and we're celebrating. Or do you want me to sulk?"

"Come on, Rosalie. You're not fooling me."

She gave a self-conscious laugh, avoiding my eyes and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll tell you tomorrow, okay? I promise."

I frowned, confused. "Why tomorrow? Why not today?"

" _Because_ ," she answered. "It's your birthday. This is _your_ day. Just be patient, Bella. I'll tell you later."

"Rosalie," I moaned quietly, even though I kind of wanted to screech. Loudly. "You're making me worried. At least tell me nothing's wrong."

"Everything's fine. Better than fine."

"Well, in that case, you might as well tell me now. You said it – it's my birthday. You have to fulfill my every wish."

She laughed. "You can't have it both ways, Bella. You always say you don't want any fuss on your birthday, and now you say your every wish has to be fulfilled?"

"Well, not _every_ wish. Just this one. Tell me. _Please_. What's going on with you?"

She sighed, brushing her fingers through her long, golden waves in a nearly nervous gesture. "Okay. Fine. Just...just don't start squealing or anything, okay?"

"When have I ever squealed?"

"Good point." She took a deep breath. "Okay. Here goes. Last night...Emmett...well, he kind of...proposed to me."

I stared at her. " _What?_ And you're only telling me this _now?_ Why didn't you say anything before?" I threw my arms around her, enveloping her in a fierce hug. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you! You should've said something!"

She let out a quiet, relieved laugh, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. "Like I said, this is supposed to be your day. I was going to tell you later."

I pulled away, smiling widely. "You should've told me right away. This is huge! Show me the ring!" I took her left hand in mine, only to discover there was no ring on her finger. I gave her a glance. "He didn't get you a ring? Don't tell me he proposed to you with a Fruit Loop."

She chuckled. "You know, as much as that sounds like something Emmett might do..." she trailed off and pulled a thin, silver chain from under her blouse; the ring was on the chain. I looked at it more closely, thinking to myself it was just Rosalie's style – Emmett really knew her well. The ring had a single, elegant diamond in the middle.

"Wow. I don't know anything about diamonds, but that's pretty. You should've kept it on your finger, though. You didn't have to keep this a secret, just because it happens to be my birthday. I've been kind of expecting news like this for a while now."

"Really?" She was smiling widely; I realized I'd never seen Rosalie this happy.

"Really. Go ahead, put it back on your finger. Now, we have two reasons to celebrate."

She hesitated, grinning sheepishly. "You know, I'd rather wait until we get home. I want Emmett to put it back."

I nodded knowingly. "Admit it. You just want him to get down on one knee again and recreate the moment."

"Guilty. But in my defense, Bella, it was very romantic. Even if he proposed to me a hundred times, I'd never get tired of it."

My mom chose that moment to come into the kitchen. She saw me studying the ring, and she gave Rosalie a knowing smile.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked.

Rosalie nodded.

"Isn't it great?" I asked, turning to Renée. "And can you believe it, she wasn't going to say anything today, just because it's my birthday. I had to _force_ her to tell me."

"What a poor friend," Renée stated in a dry manner, chuckling. She crossed the room to us, wrapping Rosalie in a tight hug and congratulating her. "When's the wedding?"

"Oh, we haven't even talked about that yet," Rosalie murmured, shaking her head.

"Come on. I'll bet you already have a guest list," I teased her.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, there's no harm in planning, is there? And besides, I can't dump everything on my maid of honor, as in _you_."

I quirked my brows at her words.

She chuckled. "Oh, come on, Bella. You're my best friend, and you're like a sister to me. Who else was I going to ask?"

Her words made very warm inside. That warmth stayed with me throughout the evening, even after she and Emmett eventually prepared to take their leave. They both had to work the next day, and it was getting close to midnight. It seemed like it was easier said than done, however, to get Carlisle and Emmett to bring their conversation to an end. For some reason, it surprised me that they were getting along so well. Their personalities were so different, after all.

"I should go as well. It's getting late," Carlisle said, after Emmett and Rosalie had closed the front door behind them. I wanted him to stay, of course, but since my mom was staying at my apartment...

"Thanks for tonight," I told him, after I'd kissed him goodnight. "No one's ever thrown me a surprise birthday party before."

Renée had been tidying up in the kitchen, but now, she began to make her way towards my bedroom, probably wanting to give us some privacy.

"It was nice to meet you, Carlisle," she told him on her way to the hallway. "Have a safe drive home."

"Thank you, Mrs. Dwyer."

My mom chuckled and shook her head. "Please, call me Renée. Mrs. Dwyer makes me feel old."

Carlisle gave a soft laugh. My mom disappeared into my bedroom, and I turned to face him again.

"Your mother is wonderful," he told me. "And she's...well, she's...she..."

"You can say it. She's a weirdo. Believe me, I noticed it around the time I turned two."

He gave an amused laugh, running a hand through his hair. I moved closer to him, wrapping my arms around him.

"Seriously, though," I said, "Thank you for tonight. For everything. I was really pleased when I realized the text you sent me was just part of your little scheme."

He chuckled. "I can't take the credit for that. It was Rosalie's idea." He leaned down to place a soft kiss on my lips. "I'm glad we managed to surprise you. It took some effort to figure out where to hide our cars, so they wouldn't give us away when you came home in the afternoon, but I suppose we succeeded."

"You did."

He drew away slightly, giving me an uncertain smile. "I should let you get some sleep now. But first...one more thing." He took a small step back and pulled something from the pocket of his pants – a small package wrapped in silver paper – and gave it to me.

"Carlisle, you didn't have to get me anything. This party was more than enough."

He shook his head, gesturing toward the package. "Open it. It's just something I saw one day, and I thought maybe..." He gave a soft, nervous laugh. "Look, I'm not at all sure if you'll even like it, but...well, I certainly hope you do." I realized he was almost rambling. Maybe he truly was nervous.

If so, he wasn't the only one. My fingers were trembling slightly, as I unwrapped the silver paper and revealed a black velvet box. As I opened it, I could literally feel Carlisle's gaze on me as he observed my reaction.

In the box, there was a simple but elegant necklace with a dark blue sapphire pendant. My mouth dropped open. I had never been into jewelry – I'd given up on wearing earrings a long time ago, because I kept losing them – but this necklace...wow. Just wow.

I didn't know what I'd expected, but it was not this. One might give this type of gift to their girlfriend or wife, and I obviously was neither of those things to Carlisle. Since there was nothing serious about our relationship, why had he given me something that literally screamed "serious?"

I was so confused.

"Carlisle...oh, my goodness. This is way too much." I raised my gaze from the necklace to meet his blue eyes. I didn't know what to say. I didn't even dare to _think_ how much the necklace must have cost. Even though it was a simple design, something about it made me believe it had been anything but cheap.

"Do you like it?" he asked me quietly, ignoring my words.

"Of course, but that's beside the point."

Again, he didn't even seem to hear my words. He took the necklace from the box and reached out to fasten it around my neck.

"I thought since sapphire is your birthstone..." he murmured, his soft words trailing off. He gave me a small smile. "I was going to ask you if you even like blue, but I didn't want to give anything away."

"I like blue," I answered quietly, holding his gaze. "I've grown very fond of...blue."

He just smiled. I rose to my tiptoes to kiss him. "Thank you. I still think it's too much, but...thank you."

"You're welcome." He pressed a soft kiss on my cheek, before taking a step back and grabbing his coat. "Sleep well, Bella. Happy birthday."

I stood there for a long time after he'd left. I pressed a palm over the pendant resting against my chest, feeling more confused than ever.

* * *

My mom was already in bed when I eventually came from the hallway; we always shared my bed whenever she was visiting me. Maybe it was weird, but that word pretty much described our relationship, anyway.

"Everything okay?" she asked me.

I took a towel from the drawer and gathered my pajamas. I just nodded, still too confused about Carlisle's gift to say anything else. I needed a moment to gather myself. "Yeah. I'll be right back."

I made my way into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. After taking off the necklace, I took a long shower, partly because I hoped Renée would fall asleep while I was busy in the bathroom. I even spent a little more time washing my hair than was necessary, but I could only delay the conversation so long. After brushing my teeth and pulling on my pajamas, I made my way back to the bedroom, toweling my hair in the process. As expected, my mom was still fully awake.

"What's the matter, Birthday Girl?" Renée asked, looking at me curiously. Apparently, something in my expression told her something was going on with me.

"It's past midnight. It's not my birthday anymore." I gave her a distracted smile, placing the sapphire necklace on the table by the door.

"What's that?" my mom asked. I heard her get up and cross the room to me.

I sighed, finally meeting her eyes. "Carlisle gave it to me. Just before he left."

Renée quirked her eyebrows. "Wow. It's beautiful. That's a good sign, you know. When a man gives you jewelry, he must really like you," she winked.

I blew out a breath, my eyes finding the necklace again. "I don't know. That's the thing. Whatever we have...it's nothing serious. That's why I haven't bothered to tell you about him."

"Oh? So, you're seeing him, but it's not exclusive?"

I drew in a deep breath, trying to calm my rushing mind. I walked slowly to the bed and sat down. "I don't know," I said again. "I mean... No. We're not exclusive. I haven't even known him that long. I met him just a few weeks ago. He told me right off the bat he's not interested in a serious relationship. We agreed on keeping things casual. That's it."

"Okay," Renée said slowly. She followed me and sat down on the other side of the bed. I turned around to face her. I was suddenly glad my relationship with my mother was what it was – that we could talk about anything, even stuff like this. "Don't take this the wrong way, Bella," she began, "but that doesn't sound like you. You've never been interested in casual flings. Why now?"

"I'm not sure. He's an interesting man. I kept running into him in strange situations, and...well, it's like someone out there kept saying I should go for it. That I'd regret it if I didn't."

"So...you're just having fun? That's all?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He made it very clear from the beginning that serious relationships aren't his thing."

"Did he say why?"

I shook my head. "He has...issues. Something happened to him, but I'm not sure what. I think he might be a widower, but I can't be certain. We don't talk about personal stuff like that. Or _he_ doesn't talk about those things, to be accurate."

"Do you like him?" Renée asked quietly.

I sighed, closing my eyes. "Yeah. I do. I like him too much," I swallowed hard. "Probably more than he likes me."

"I wouldn't say that. You know, Bella...of course, I can't know what's going on with him, but I do know men don't give expensive necklaces to women they're not taking at least a little seriously."

"Sapphire is my birthstone. I got the impression that's the reason he got that necklace for me."

"Maybe, but that thing looks very expensive. He could've given you any number of things, like movie tickets or something else that's more or less impersonal."

"What are you trying to say?" I asked, opening my eyes. "That he likes me?" It made me feel like a teenager, asking something like that.

Renée chuckled. "It's obvious he likes you. I could see how he was looking at you tonight. But I understand why you're confused. If you agreed to keep things light..."

"We did. In the beginning, I found it hard to believe he was even interested in me. I mean, he's twenty years older than me."

"Does it bother you?"

"No. Our age difference was never an issue." I peeked at her under half-closed eyelids. "What did you think when you found out about it? That I'm seeing a man who's your age?"

Renée shrugged. "Well, I was surprised, of course, but that's all. Keep in mind that Phil's a lot younger than I am. A _lot_ younger. When it comes to these things, age has little meaning. I should know it." She paused, looking at me closely. "How are you going to go on from here? What are your plans? I mean, do you and Carlisle have rules? Are you both seeing other people?"

"I'm not. And Carlisle has said more than once he doesn't date multiple women at the same time. Apparently, it's not his thing." I blew out a sigh. "As for what our plans are...I don't know. We don't have any. We agreed to take it one day at a time. We keep seeing each other as long as it feels right, I guess."

"Isn't it...frustrating to know your relationship isn't going anywhere?" my mom asked carefully. "It's just that...well, I know you, Bella. There's a reason why you've never been in these types of relationships before."

I bit my lip, considering her question. "It is frustrating, I guess," I admitted. "In a way. I mean, I know I'm not supposed to have any expectations. Carlisle made it very clear a casual relationship is the only thing he's capable of."

"Are you secretly hoping he might change his mind somewhere down the line?"

Again, I had to stop and think about her question. I searched myself, wondering if I _was_ secretly hoping Carlisle would have a change of heart about this. If it was true...it wasn't fair of me to expect that, to nurture those thoughts. Carlisle had been nothing but honest with me about this. It was wrong of me to expect something like that from him, something he was unable to give.

It meant that, if I had expectations, I had to stop having them. Right now. Otherwise, I'd only end up hurting myself.

Realizing I had been quiet for a very long time, I turned to meet Renée's gaze. "I don't know, to be honest. I guess I'm unconsciously hoping things would be different. But the only thing I know for sure is I want to be with him. As long as it feels right, as long as it feels good to spend time with him..." I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I just know I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't at least try to get to know him better."

"You're in love with him."

I tore my eyes open, startled. "No. That's...that's not what this is."

Renée quirked an eyebrow at me. "Are sure about that, Bella?" When I didn't answer, she let out a quiet sigh. Her blue eyes were kind, apologetic. "You said you want to keep going as long as it feels good and right. But Bella, there might be a day when it no longer feels right. Especially if you have feelings for him. I just don't want you to get hurt."

I nodded quickly. "I know. And I'm being...careful. I can always get out, if it starts to feel like I'm making a mistake."

"How do you think Carlisle would react, if you suddenly said you want to walk away?"

I shrugged with forced nonchalance. "He's the one who believes we can't have a future together. I don't think there are a lot of things he can say, if I begin to feel like this isn't something I want for myself. He'd...understand." A large part of me hoped he wouldn't. That he'd refuse to let me go.

Renée stayed silent for a while. She ran a hand through her hair, biting her lip in a thoughtful way. "Well, I do wonder why he is the way he is."

"Beats me."

She turned to look my way. "You said you believe he's a widower. How come?"

"I found a wedding ring when I was staying over at his house. He's never mentioned he's been married, so I assumed it must be a difficult topic for some reason or another. And when I ran into him a few weeks ago, he was coming from the cemetery. And then there are these other strange things. He's having trouble sleeping, for instance, and he once told me he used to be a doctor, but he quit. There has to be a good reason for it."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"He just seems...troubled. And sad. All the time. Like I said, he's having trouble sleeping - he keeps having nightmares. And then there are nights when he barely sleeps at all. It worries me."

Renée frowned. "That's understandable. Have you ever met any of his family, by the way? Does he have siblings, relatives?"

"I don't know. I haven't asked. He doesn't really talk about personal things." Her question made me think about the row of framed photos on the bookshelf in his living room. I thought to myself that I'd have to take a closer look at them the next time I'd visit. So far, I hadn't gotten the chance to do that. During these past weeks when I'd spent time at Carlisle's house, we'd always ended up spending our time in the bedroom. For obvious reasons.

"You know, Bella," Renée said, as she drew back the covers on her side of the bed and lay down, "If you want to know more about Carlisle, the only solution is that you open your mouth and ask questions. I imagine it'll only get more stressful if you have to keep guessing what's going on with him."

"I have asked him about some stuff a couple of times," I answered, "And I've even told him I'm worried about him. But he once said some things are hard for him to talk about. There's not much I can do about it. I can only try to respect what he says. Pushing him to talk about it would be wrong."

"Yeah. I guess." Renée pulled the covers over herself and turned onto her side toward me. "I didn't mean to sound like it's your job to figure him out. I mean, maybe it's not. I guess I'm just wondering how you feel about it. Is there a part of you that hopes he'd let you in? That he'd confide in you about the things that trouble him?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. There is." I swallowed, meeting her gaze. "Sometimes, I feel so lost when it comes to him. I mean, what should I do? What _is_ there to do?"

Renée didn't answer right away. "Maybe nothing," she answered gently. "I know. That's not something you want to hear. But I just want you to be realistic about this. And I also want you to remember that, you shouldn't try to fix something that can't be fixed. You might only end up broken yourself." She pulled her hand from under the covers and grasped mine.

"Is that your only advice?" I asked, feeling slightly dispirited.

She smiled softly. "No. My other advice is to take it one moment at a time. And as cliché as it sounds, do what your heart tells you."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Renee's line, "You need something to keep you warm in this gloomy, rainy city," is a reference to the moment that takes place in the movie, Eclipse, when Bella visits her mom and gets that early graduation present from her._


	13. For Now

_**"Embrace uncertainty. Some of the most beautiful chapters in our lives won't have a title until much later."**_

\- Bob Goff -

* * *

 **For Now**

I tried to follow my mother's advice and just take it one moment at a time. Some days, it was easier than others, because in a way, I kept feeling like the time I had with Carlisle was borrowed time. I tried not to let that feeling get in the way, deciding I just had to learn to appreciate what we had. After all, I'd been the one to suggest this whole arrangement. Starting a casual relationship had been my idea, and I just had to take responsibility for my feelings.

It was not that I now regretted that proposal. Like I'd told both my mom and Rosalie, I wanted to spend time with Carlisle as long as it felt good and right. But as days passed, I did begin to wonder how _wise_ this whole thing was. Both Rosalie and Renée had said they didn't want me to get hurt, and their warnings began to haunt me in a new way.

 _You're in love with him... I just want you to be realistic about this... You shouldn't try to fix something that can't be fixed... You might only end up broken yourself. You know, Bella, I don't think you should go there... I'm afraid you'll just end up getting hurt yourself... You're in love with him... You're in love with him... You're in love with him..._

Their voices and words kept blending together in my head, making me restless and anxious. I began to wonder when I'd become so confused about all this. What had changed? Or had I been this confused all along, and I just hadn't realized it until now? Maybe.

Or maybe...maybe it was the necklace. If Carlisle hadn't given it to me on my birthday, and if he had given me something casual and impersonal instead, would I now be more balanced with my emotions? At least I wouldn't have to wonder if his gift had a greater meaning behind it.

I would ask Rosalie about it, when I saw her next week. She'd always been good with people, and especially men. Her ability to figure out what was going on in their heads was almost supernatural.

I had a day off on Thursday, and I went to see her at the salon in the afternoon, after making sure she wasn't with a customer.

"Rosalie," I began, as she offered me a mug of herbal tea – her mother had probably made it. She was obsessed with it, and she always served it to the customers visiting the salon. She said it did wonders for your skin.

Rosalie quirked her eyebrows at me, taking a sip from her own tea. "Everything okay? You look strange."

I gave a soft laugh. Apparently, my confusion was visible on my face. "I have a weird question for you. Emmett...well, has Emmett ever given you jewelry? Aside from that," I added and smiled, nodding at her engagement ring.

Rosalie frowned, hesitating. "Well...he doesn't shower me with diamonds every day, if that's what you're asking. But you already know that."

"But, he gave you that pretty bracelet once, didn't he?"

"Yeah. When we'd been together for a year. It was an anniversary present. Why?"

I sipped my tea again, making my way to the salon's backroom and sitting down in one of the chairs. Rosalie followed me, looking at me curiously. I placed my mug on the table close by and pulled out the sapphire necklace from under my shirt.

Rosalie's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "Wow. That's pretty." She frowned confusedly. "Did your dad send it to you? Your mom said his gift would arrive in the mail later..."

I shook my head. "No, uh...Charlie sent me money and a greeting card. He always does, because he thinks shopping for gifts for women is impossible."

"Then, who gave you that necklace?"

I pulled in a slow breath. "Carlisle did."

Rosalie blinked slowly. "Okay." She took a slow sip from her tea and sat down as well. "When?"

"After you and Emmett left last Friday." I watched her closely, realizing she seemed to be as confused as I was. And if Rosalie was confused, well...that was saying something. "You know, I'm kind of relieved you're stumped as well. Carlisle and I have only known each other for a few weeks. It's way too early for these types of gifts, isn't it? Especially since what we have is nothing serious. People don't give expensive necklaces to someone they're just sleeping with. Right?"

"Right," she echoed, biting her lip.

"So, what does this _mean?"_

"Has he said anything about it? When was the last time you saw him?"

I shrugged. "This morning. I see him practically every day. We stay over at each other's places, and this week, he's taken up the habit of spending his lunch hour with me at the café if I'm working an earlier shift. And as for whether he's said anything about the necklace...well, when I was getting dressed this morning, he seemed pleased when he noticed I keep wearing it. I told him I liked it. A lot."

Rosalie frowned; she seemed pensive. "I wonder why he waited until I'd left with Emmett before giving it to you. Was your mom there?"

"No. She was getting ready for bed."

She hesitated. "It's almost like he didn't want anyone to see him give that to you. Like he seemed to acknowledge it himself – that it's a little too early to be giving jewelry at this point in your relationship, especially since the nature of your relationship is what it is. It's like you said. It's a little weird to give something so expensive to someone you're just sleeping with. I mean, one might expect something like gift cards or movie tickets. Something casual."

"That's what my mom said."

Rosalie let out a long breath. She stayed silent for a long time; I could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. "So, maybe he gave a gift like that, because he's trying to tell you something. Maybe he's trying to say he's open to the thought of having something more with you. Maybe this is his way of saying it. Men can be really weird about these things sometimes."

I shook my head. "You know, as nice as that sounds, I'm not sure if that's the case here. I mean, when he told me all those weeks ago that serious relationships aren't his thing..." I shook my head, still remembering the bleak look in Carlisle's blue eyes. "You didn't see his face. How he looked. And besides, I got the distinct impression he's been this way for years. Why would he suddenly change his mind? And even if he did, why not just bring it up with me? I mean, expensive jewelry is one way to make a statement, I admit, but..."

"Maybe he's uncertain," she suggested. "About how _you_ feel about it, that is. I believe it was _you_ who talked him into starting this thing in the first place. You told him you're not looking for anything. He's probably still under that impression. Maybe he's worried you're not interested. Maybe he's testing the water, so to speak. He wanted to see how you'd react by giving you that necklace."

I let out a sigh. "Well, if he was waiting for me to respond somehow, I've kind of blown it, haven't I? I mean, I thanked him for the necklace and made sure he knows how much I appreciate that he gave it to me, but...well, other than that, I've been too confused to say much else."

"I don't think you've blown anything. But I suggest you do some water testing yourself. Talk to him about this and see how he responds. If you get the impression he gave you that necklace for no apparent reason, then..."

"Then, it means I'm reading too much into this, that's all," I finished for her. "You know, now when I think about it, he said he wanted to give me the necklace because sapphire is my birthstone. Maybe it was just a whim, that's all. Or maybe he's just that type of man – maybe it's a habit of his to give expensive gifts to the women he's seeing. Maybe he doesn't think it strange. Money doesn't seem to be an issue for him, after all." I thought about his large, tastefully decorated house and the first time I had set my foot in there. Already then, I'd suspected he must wealthy.

"Maybe," Rosalie admitted. She began to play with her hair pensively, twirling a golden strand around her finger. "I don't think you should make any assumptions, though. If this bothers you that much, then I suggest you open your mouth and ask him, straightforward."

I nodded, staring at my hands. "It's just…a part of me worries that, if I ask him about it, he'll reach the conclusion that I want this to be more than a fling. That I'm not able to keep this casual. And if it turns out that getting me that necklace was just a whim and nothing else..." I paused and pulled in a deep breath, trying to make sense of my thoughts.

"Before we started this...this _thing_ , whatever this is...that Sunday, when I ran into him, and after he'd kissed me...he kept telling me that whatever we were doing wasn't wise. He was concerned about hurting me or disappointing me. From day one, he made it known he's not cut out for commitment, that I shouldn't expect anything more from him. He said I deserve someone who's able to start something real with me. If he finds out I'm starting to have feelings for him, I'm afraid he'll pull away and disappear, if for no other reason than to protect me. And I don't..." A weary sigh left my lips. "I don't want that."

Rosalie was silent so long it caught my attention. I looked up from my hands and met her gaze. I couldn't read the look in her eyes; it was something like concern.

"You have feelings for him," she stated slowly. It was only then I comprehended what I'd said just now. What I'd admitted.

I swallowed thickly. "I don't know. Maybe. My mom seems to think I do."

"What do _you_ think?"

I shook my head, looking at my hands again. "I don't know," I murmured again. "I've never felt like this before." I suddenly realized hot tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision.

"Bella..."

I heard Rosalie shifting closer, and then, her arms wrapped around me tightly. I bit my lip and tried to blink the tears away, but they poured down my cheeks and spilled on the shoulder of her blouse.

"I'm sorry," I heard myself say. "I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm just..."

Rosalie drew away. She tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "You're confused," she finished for me, her voice gentle, "And maybe a little frustrated as well. God knows I'd be." She shook her head, giving me a small smile, before brushing a tear from my cheek. She just watched me for a while, not saying anything, and then she sighed.

"Listen, Bella..." she hesitated. "Don't take this the wrong way. This isn't me telling you 'I told you so.' But when you told me about your... _arrangement_ with Carlisle, I was kind of worried it'd lead to this. I was worried, because I know you better than anyone. I know that, whenever you get into something, you're never halfway in or halfway out. You're an all-or-nothing kind of person, and I admire that. And I can see you really like Carlisle – I saw it from the very beginning, when you first told me about him." She paused. "I obviously can't say I know him, but I want to believe he's a good man, despite his occasional strange behaviour. And from what I saw at your birthday party, I think he likes you, too. A lot. I saw the way he was with you. The way he looked at you."

"But…?"

"But...my point is...my point is, I don't want you to settle for second best." Her eyes were kind. "I want to see you with someone who cares about you, who _loves_ you instead of just liking you. If it turns out Carlisle isn't that man, I want you to realize that sooner rather than later."

I forced myself to nod. More tears escaped, and I dashed a hand across my face. "You know..." I cleared my throat, sniffling. "There's a part of me that just wants things to stay the way they are. I mean, I'm not hurting anyone else but myself, right?" I gave a bleak laugh. "But on the other hand, I don't know. I also feel kind of dishonest, if I keep going like this. If I don't tell him what's going on with me."

Rosalie nodded. "You have to do what feels best for you. And I understand why the thought of bringing this up with him is hard."

"He'd want to know. He wouldn't want me to stay with him, if he knew I wanted more from him. That I want something he can't give."

"I know. It frustrates me a bit that he won't tell you what his problem is, but I have to admit, at least he's been honest with you about the few things he's told you. At least he hasn't been leading you on."

I nodded. "That's why I feel like I do. I feel like _I'm_ the one leading _him_ on if I keep this up. Allowing him to be under the impression that a casual relationship is okay with me..."

Rosalie's eyes were gentle. "Are you going to talk to him, then?"

I drew in a deep, trembling breath. "He's coming over tonight. We were supposed to go out tomorrow evening. Maybe...maybe I should bring this up then, over dinner."

"That's a good idea. Maybe it's wrong of me to say this...I mean, I don't want you to get your hopes up, but don't give up just yet. I still think there might a reason why he gave you that necklace. I suggest that, when you see him tonight, look for clues. Look for _anything_. Think about the things you want to tell him, and then sleep on it. When you meet him for dinner tomorrow night, you'll be more prepared, and you'll know what to say."

"Right." I brushed a hand across my cheek again. I gave her a weak smile. "Thanks. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you."

She smiled. "You'd have to pay for a therapist. Just kidding," she chuckled, shaking her head. "Actually, it's kind of funny how our positions have reversed. It used to be _me_ coming to _you_ every time I had problems or heartaches. And you always talked sense to me and put me back together." She wrapped her arms around me again, holding me tightly. "That's what you do, Bella – what you've always done. You mend broken hearts. That's why I'd like to see your heart stay intact."

* * *

When I left the salon a few minutes later, I felt a little lighter. Rosalie was right; it was a good idea to gather my thoughts and wait until tomorrow before bringing this up with Carlisle.

I got into my truck, and like many other times during that week, I pulled out the necklace from under my collar to study it. The sapphires shimmered subtly in the grey afternoon light. My thoughts began to drift, and for a moment, I allowed myself to wonder what it would mean if Rosalie's cautious suspicions turned out to be correct. What if there was a reason why Carlisle had given me this necklace? What if it was his way of trying to say he wanted something more? And if it was so, what kind of future could I have with a man who was twenty years older than me?

Despite our age difference, we had things in common. Our love for books and reading was just one of those things. During the past couple of weeks, I'd noticed we fit well together. And it wasn't just the sex. That was amazing, of course, but there were other things I enjoyed as well. We both liked quiet evenings together at home, whether we stayed at my place or his. I liked Carlisle's quiet and calm manner, his gentle and compassionate nature. I'd come to learn those were his defining traits. I'd also noticed we could drift into deep and meaningful discussions by accident, and then spend hours talking about everything and nothing at all, and not even notice the passing of time.

We rarely talked about personal stuff – that was the only thing that was missing. I'd occasionally shared bits and pieces of my childhood and teenage years with him, but I found it kind of pointless in the end, since I knew he was unwilling to talk about his own past. Would that change, if it turned out he wanted to start something real with me?

And what about other things? Since he was so much older than me, would he be in a hurry to start a family? If so, was I ready for stuff like that? I had never given much thought to having children. I'd always thought those things either happened or they didn't. That they'd come along if or when the time was right.

I remembered asking Carlisle about that soon after we'd met. He'd told me he and Kate had parted ways, because she'd wanted to settle down and have a large family, and when I'd asked if he ever wanted those things, his answer had been more or less cryptic. No surprise there.

 _"In a way, I feel like I have settled down. But maybe it's more about me being set in my ways and knowing I'll never change. And as for having a family..." he paused, staring at the table between us again. "Well, most of the time, I feel like...like I've got my hands full with myself. Starting a family with someone...it's something I haven't been able to even consider for years."_

Would he someday feel differently about that? And if not, would I be able to accept it? If he wanted to start a serious relationship with me, would I be willing to sacrifice having children, if that was something he wasn't ready for? Would I have to choose between him and having a family?

I sighed and shook my head, starting my truck. I was getting ahead of myself, and that was mildly put. And all because of one necklace. I had to keep in mind that it was possible I was just reading too much into this, and the same might go for Rosalie. Nothing said there was a greater meaning behind Carlisle's gift. It was more than possible that buying it for me had been just a whim.

As I made my way back to my apartment, I decided the best course of action was to do as Rosalie had suggested. I'd sleep on it and talk about these things with him tomorrow. Although, there was a part of me that just wanted to play this safe and keep things the way they were. If bringing this up with him meant I'd possibly have to say goodbye to him tomorrow...

As much as the thought hurt, I realized I'd have to start preparing myself mentally for just that.

When I got to the parking lot of my apartment building, I was so lost in thought, I didn't notice the black SUV pulling up next to me a moment later. When there was a soft tap on the driver's side window, I blinked and pulled myself out of my thoughts. Giving Carlisle a distracted smile, I cut the engine and got out of my truck. Not meeting his eyes, I rose to my tiptoes to place a quick kiss on his cheek. I noticed he was carrying a heavy-looking grocery bag.

"How was your day?" he asked me as I pulled back. He always asked me that, I'd noticed. Every day. I knew it wasn't just a formality; he really seemed to care about my answers.

"Fine," I answered. "I just got back from visiting Rosalie at the salon."

"Oh? Are you two busy planning her wedding yet?" he asked, his tone teasing; I'd told him about Rosalie and Emmett's engagement a few days ago.

Chuckling softly, I shook my head. "I think Rosalie has her hands full with trying to make Emmett sit still long enough, so they can start negotiating the date. So, no wedding planning yet."

Carlisle gave a soft laugh. I nodded toward the full grocery bag in his hand. "That looks heavy. Did you leave any food for the rest of Seattle?"

He chuckled. "Maybe, maybe not. Since we're eating out tomorrow, I thought I could cook something for us tonight. It's my turn."

" _Your_ turn? You cooked yesterday as well. In fact, I think it's _me_ who owes you more than one home-cooked dinner."

He grinned. "What can I say? I enjoy cooking. And since you spend most of your time on your feet, running around and serving other people, I think it's only fair you get to take it easy at home." He seemed to look at me more closely, then, and his smile fell. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Have you been crying?"

Crap. I guess my eyes were still a little red, after that small meltdown I'd had at the salon. Normally, I wasn't much of a crier, and that was why my sudden breakdown had confused me – and probably Rosalie as well. I looked down at the ground to avoid Carlisle's blue eyes, painfully aware I wasn't a very good liar.

"No, of course I haven't. Everything's fine."

His warm fingers lifted my chin gently, forcing me to look at him. He was frowning now, his eyes darkening with worry. I realized I'd seen him that concerned only once before, just after I'd run into him on the street that one rainy night weeks ago.

"Has something happened?" he asked gently.

"No. Everything's fine," I said again, this time more convincingly. I even managed to give him a small smile.

He wasn't buying it. "Are you sure? Bella, if something's happened–"

"Nothing's happened," I interrupted and began to walk past him toward my apartment door. "Everything's as it should be."

A strong hand enclosed around my wrist, effectively stopping me. I turned around to face him again. His blue eyes seemed to penetrate my mind, making me feel like all my secrets had been laid bare.

"If everything's fine, then why have you been crying?" he asked quietly. "And don't say you haven't. I'm not blind, Bella. What's upset you? Just...just tell me. Please."

I sighed, wetting my lips nervously and wondering what to say to make him drop it. I wasn't ready to talk about this. Not yet. "Look, it's nothing, okay? I'm not upset, not anymore. I was just visiting Rosalie, like I said. We were talking about...stuff. Women's stuff. You know how it goes. Women cry over everything. We're sentimental, unpredictable creatures."

He just looked at me for a long moment and didn't say anything. I held his gaze, refusing to look away.

He hesitated. "Are you trying to make me feel confused by talking about _women's stuff?"_ A smile tugged at his lips now. "And by doing so, are you hoping I'll get so embarrassed and confused that I'll just leave it be?"

I returned his small smile. "Okay. So, you think I'm bluffing. But are you willing to take the risk in case I'm not?" I stepped closer to him, whispering dramatically, "I have a secret for you, Dr. Cullen. We're a strange, dangerous species. The sooner you accept it, the better. We don't have to be hormonal – or upset – in order to get emotional. The tissue paper industry is based on women's mood swings, after all."

He gave an uncertain laugh, and I saw he still seemed unconvinced. I tugged at his arm playfully, deciding the best way to distract him was to get him inside. "Now, I'm starving. You know, I read this article about how some people get really cranky when they're hungry. It's a general belief that men get grumpier than women, but according to the article I read, it's actually the other way around. So, proceed with caution."

I began to walk towards my front door as I talked, and I was relieved when he followed me and began to explain about blood-glucose levels and how your brain perceived it as a life-threatening situation if those levels dropped too low. His expression changed, and his voice took on a professional tone; he was in doctor mode again. I wondered if he even noticed it himself how easily he could shift into that role. He was probably completely unaware he carried that piece of his past with him, whether he wanted it or not. I thought to myself that maybe he'd never really stopped being a doctor.

When it came to cooking dinner, I managed to negotiate a deal with him; I was in charge of preparing the salad and setting the table, while Carlisle busied himself with making spinach lasagna. I was so adamant about helping, partly because I didn't know how to be idle; because of my job, staying constantly on the move and bustling about was my second nature. But the other reason was, I wanted to have a proper reason to be there while he cooked. Carlisle's presence in my home was very...comforting. I liked to watch him, and as forbidden as the thought was, I realized I could get used to seeing him there with me, in my small kitchen.

I'd also noticed that whenever he was immersed in cooking, he was more relaxed and open. I didn't know why that was. Not that he was normally very tense or overwrought, but truth was, most of the time, he was very reserved, so in possession of himself. All that almost seemed to go away whenever he was handling a spatula or a cutting board. I liked that.

As I watched him wordlessly, I was suddenly very certain he'd done this a lot before. That he'd cared for someone.

That I wasn't the first person he was cooking for.

As he began to chop the spinach, I observed him carefully, my eyes lingering on his long, tapered fingers. I imagined him in another kitchen, in another life, and wondered about the person who had stood somewhere close to him and watched him work like I was watching him now. I wondered if that other person had enjoyed it as much as I did.

"Who taught you to cook?" I asked quietly. I couldn't help myself; suddenly, I just had to learn something more about him. Even if it was just a small thing like this. "Your mom?"

He gave me a familiar, sad smile. "I mostly taught myself," he answered. "When I was young, I remember my mother _tried_ to teach me these things on more than one occasion, but...well, you know what young boys are like. They believe they're immortal, and they also very foolishly think meals just magically appear from somewhere."

I chuckled, amused. "Right. And then the time comes when they have to go to college and survive on their own, and their mothers tell them that life is a cruel but good teacher when it comes to cooking – and everything else."

He gave a soft laugh. "That's right. Hmm. Interesting. That actually sounds a lot like something my mother once told me."

"Where is she now? Does she live far away?"

He gave me another sad smile. "Oh, uh...she passed away...a long time ago. Just after I'd turned twenty."

I closed my eyes, kind of wanting to bite off my tongue. "I'm sorry."

He brushed it off. "Don't worry. It was a long time ago."

I was surprised he was talking so openly about this. This was personal stuff, after all, and he didn't talk about personal stuff. Maybe it was the fact that he was cooking.

"Still, I'm sorry. I can't imagine what it'd be like to lose a parent at such a young age. I think twenty-year-olds still need their mothers."

"You're right about that," he agreed, smiling softly.

"What about your dad?" I asked carefully. I felt kind of bad about it immediately – I didn't want to bring up more painful topics. But he talked about stuff like this so rarely...

"I never really...knew...my father," he answered slowly. "I don't remember much about him. He left when I was very young, you see. But on more than one occasion, my mother told me it was better that way. My father...well, he wasn't a very tolerant man. That I do remember. That's why I had no reason to question it, when my mother told me we were better off without him. I remember...I remember he was very angry all the time. After he left...well, let's just say it was a lot easier to breathe after he was gone."

I nodded slowly, not really knowing what to say. I just felt very bad for him, and I was suddenly thankful for my close relationship with Charlie. Even though he and my mom hadn't seen eye to eye, I was grateful they were both in my life, regardless of the fact that they hadn't stayed together. I was grateful they'd given me a safe and intact childhood, despite the problems they'd had.

"You're thinking about her. Your mother." Carlisle's voice was very soft.

I raised my gaze from the tomatoes I'd been chopping, surprised. "Yeah. I was thinking about Charlie as well, and...well, how lucky I am. One shouldn't take their parents for granted." I shot him a curious look. "How did you know what I was thinking about?"

He chuckled and smiled. "Your eyes. I watched you with your mother on your birthday. You had a certain look in your eyes whenever you were talking to her. You had that same look just now."

I felt very warm, then. If he kept an eye on things like that and even cared enough to remember them days later... What could it mean?

Maybe it meant something, maybe it meant nothing. Maybe I was seeing things that weren't even there. Maybe I was looking too hard. And maybe I was over-analyzing everything; I'd been told I did that sometimes. But on the other hand, Rosalie had told me to look for clues like this, hadn't she?

I didn't want to ruin the evening, though, by trying to interpret his every word and action and then wonder if they were signals for something. So, I did what I'd done so far; I tried to take every moment as it came. I tried to enjoy every minute I had with him. That was the whole reason why I'd started this whole thing with him, right? Because I wanted to spend time with him, because I wanted to be with him.

And because every inch of my skin seemed to remember his touch whenever he was near me.

"Thank you for dinner," I told him later that night, after we'd done the dishes and settled in the living room. We were sitting on my small couch, my legs thrown over his.

"No reason to thank me. And besides, we made it together," Carlisle murmured. His lips brushed against my temple.

I rolled my eyes. "Right. I tore the lettuce and sliced a few tomatoes – without losing any fingers, so I guess that's an accomplishment – but you did the rest."

He chuckled softly. "It's not about who does the most. That's never the point, Bella."

I smiled at his words, wondering how it was possible he had turned out so...well, kind and good and... _balanced_. Someone who had grown up without a father and had lost a mother unreasonably early, he was very fair and generous. Or maybe he was like that _because_ of those things that had happened to him.

His arm tightened around me. I pressed closer to him, resting my head in the crook of his shoulder. That was when I realized how much I would miss this. If – or when – I had to give this up one day, I would miss this. I took his hand that was drawing idle circles on my thigh and held it tightly.

"Are you sure everything is alright?" he asked me quietly. Apparently, I hadn't managed to convince him earlier.

I nodded, letting out a quiet sigh. "Yeah. Everything's fine. At least...for now."

He was silent for a moment. "What do you mean by that?"

I shook my head and shifted. "Nothing." Turning to face him, I moved my legs from his lap and straddled him instead. His hands went to my lower back to support me. As I busied myself with loosening his tie and undoing the upper buttons of his shirt, I noticed Carlisle was watching me closely. Very closely.

He drew in a breath to say something, hesitating. "I keep getting this feeling like...like something's going on with you. Like something's changed."

I leaned closer to brush his lips with mine, slowly and lightly. His mouth opened immediately, but I drew back teasingly, keeping my lips out of his reach.

"And what has changed?" I asked, whispering. His arms came around me, pulling me closer again. I pressed my mouth to his, giving him an urgent kiss. A shiver rippled through me as he moaned.

"I don't know," he answered quietly, as I broke away. "Something. I can't put my finger on it. You...you look at me differently."

I kissed him again, torn between wanting to hear more, and at the same time, fearing what he might say next. "I look at you differently? In a good way, or in a bad way?" I murmured against his lips, trying to sound playful instead of worried.

"I'm not...I'm not sure about that, either." His hands crept under the hem of my sweater, and then, he was pulling the garment off and over my head. He tossed the sweater aside and pulled me against him again, peppering my neck and collarbones with his lips. "You look at me like...like you're sad about something. I don't want that. I never wanted that, Bella."

I pulled the tie off his neck and swiftly unfastened the rest of the buttons to get rid of his shirt. "I'm not sad," I told him, before seeking his lips with mine again. He moaned quietly, and then his arms wrapped around me tightly. I felt him shift, and for a moment, I felt dizzy; he had taken me in his arms, standing up in one fluid motion.

"I'm not sad," I said again, as he carried me to the bedroom and placed me on the bed, my voice sounding ridiculously breathless. I reached up, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. "I don't want to be sad. I just want you."

"You have me."

 _For now._ The quiet thought made me ache, and I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the sensation of Carlisle's lips on my neck, wanting to push everything else aside. I shivered as he ran his fingers down my sides and pulled down the straps of my bra with his teeth. I sat up, giving him room to undo the clasp, and a moment later, his lips closed around my left nipple. I threw my head back, heaving out a loud breath. My heart was slamming in my chest like a jackhammer, and by the time his mouth moved to my other breast, giving it the same, careful attention, I was practically gasping.

"Carlisle...yes..." I didn't know when I'd closed my eyes, but I opened them again, when his lips suddenly left my skin. My vision was blurry with the onslaught of sensation, and it took me a while to understand why he had stopped.

Carlisle's eyes were on the sapphire pendant resting against my bare chest. He took it between his fingers, brushing a thumb over the blue jewels, and then he looked up at me. I couldn't read the look in his eyes, but it was partly because he didn't give me a chance to do that. A second passed, and he released the pendant, letting it drop down to rest against my bare skin. And then, his lips were on my body again, kissing a hot trail down my chest and over my stomach, and I forgot about everything else.

Suddenly, there was impatience and urgency in his touches, in his movements, in his very skin, as he undid my jeans and tugged them off, my panties following suit. After kissing me hungrily once more, he gently pushed me down against the mattress, before kissing his way down my body again.

"Carlisle..." I heard myself sigh, even though I hadn't made a conscious decision to speak.

"Yes, Bella?" My voice had been frail and uneven, but his was pitched low and steady; he almost sounded amused. No, not amused. Pleased. He seemed to enjoy having me in a state like this. "Was there something you wanted?"

I was about to answer something cheeky, but then, he ran his fingers up my inner thigh. After peppering my lower stomach with soft, featherlight kisses, he shifted and sat back, nudging my legs open with his knees. My whole body jolted in surprise, as he suddenly leaned down and dragged his teeth over my other hipbone.

"If you don't quit teasing me," I managed to pant out, "I'll...I'll..."

He chuckled. "You'll what?" he asked, his voice playfully taunting. "I don't think you're in any position to make threats, sweetheart." His hands grasped my wrists, and I felt his warm breaths on my lower stomach. A second passed, a second full of feeling and tension, and then, I felt the stroke of Carlisle's tongue on the heated, tender flesh at the apex of my thighs.

I began to see rainbows and bright lights. It was too much, too good, too everything, and I couldn't silence the wanton moans leaving my lips. My body wanted to arch off the bed, like it was trying to escape the intense sensations, but at the same time, I felt like I might die if I didn't get more. If he decided to stop.

He didn't stop. Carlisle's response was to release my wrists, and then his hands were on my hips, holding me still. His mouth continued its clever exploration, his tongue dipping lower, before his lips suddenly closed around the bundle of nerves at my center. I didn't recognize the sound that left my mouth, as he began to suck, firmly but gently. Even my _eyebrows_ began to tingle, for god's sake. Was that possible? Eyebrows didn't have nerve endings, did they?

"Carlisle! Carlisle...yes!" I was vaguely aware that I was digging my fingers into his scalp. "Please...Carlisle...right there...right...there..."

A soft hum left his mouth, inducing yet another bewildering sensation. My whole body was like a wire that was strung too tight, stretched to its limit, and just as I was about to snap and let go, his mouth left my tender flesh. I was torn between relief and frustration. Relief, because it was too much, and frustration, because even though it was too much, I still felt like I couldn't get enough.

I was breathing so loudly, I almost didn't hear the soft jingle of his belt buckle and the shuffle of his pants, as he got rid of them. And then, he was back, covering my body with his. His mouth sought mine, the contact both rough and soft. Those two things always seemed to battle for dominance when he was touching me. There was despair and urgency in him, as he hooked an arm under my knee, tilting my hips up to him and sliding forward. But there was tenderness in him as well, softness, and he pulled back to gaze into my eyes a moment before he pushed himself inside me. It was like he wanted – _needed_ – to see me in that moment when our bodies became one; like it was something he didn't want to miss.

I had barely enough focus to keep my eyes open as he began to move, and he pressed his forehead against mine, cradling my head with his free hand. I didn't know where _my_ hands were. All I knew was every inch of me was touching him, that my nails and fingers were leaving marks and bruises somewhere on his body, in his flesh. I wanted to apologize for it, wanting to leave some part of him undamaged; this man had enough scars. But at the same time, it stirred some deep part of me to know they were _my_ hands grappling at his trembling muscles, they were _my_ fingers digging into his arms and chest and shoulders and back, that if my touches caused him pain, at least I knew where that pain came from. At least I knew how to stop it. I could deal with this pain, because I could make it go away.

It took me a moment to realize tears mingled with the sweat running down my face, and I hid myself in the crook of his neck. Carlisle's response was to pull me even closer and thrust even harder, and if his voice had been composed and steady just moments ago, it was now shaky and uneven.

"Good God, Bella..." His lips were searing hot on my neck, his breaths were coming heavily. "What you do to me...I can't even begin to...I don't know how I'll ever be able to let you go..."

I wanted to tell him he didn't have to. That I wouldn't go anywhere. That I didn't _want_ to go anywhere. But I couldn't get a word out of my mouth. There was just the constant onslaught of pleasure and sensation, and there was just Carlisle's body moving against mine, his warm breaths brushing against my neck. And just as his movements became uneven and desperate, the coiling heat in my belly grew impossibly tighter, before finally unraveling. My peak brought on his own, and he arched into me, a strangled cry escaping his lips. I wrapped my arms around him, and he all but collapsed against me, his muscles trembling and his breathing shaky.

As the waves of pleasure slowly dissipated, I began to feel boneless and heavy, like there was lead in my veins instead of blood. I closed my eyes, listening to the fierce pounding of my heart. Or maybe it wasn't my heart; Carlisle's chest was still pressed against mine, and I thought I could feel the beats of his heart as clearly as I could feel my own.

I felt him shift, causing me to tighten my hold around him; I didn't want any distance between our bodies. He placed a soft, quick kiss on my lips.

"I'm too heavy. I'm crushing you," he protested quietly, his voice a mere whisper.

"You're not," I murmured back.

He gave a breathless chuckle and wrapped an arm around my waist. I felt empty, as our bodies parted, but then, Carlisle tightened his hold around me and turned us onto our sides. He pulled me against his chest, tucking my head under his chin. I could feel his accelerated pulse against my temple; it was comforting.

Even though it was still early, I felt like drifting off to sleep, especially when Carlisle reached out to grab a blanket from the foot of the bed. He spread it over us, cocooning us in warmth. But my mind refused to shut down, and I began to count Carlisle's quiet inhales and exhales. Despite the calm rise and fall of his chest, I somehow knew he wasn't feeling sleepy.

"I understand now," I murmured, closing my eyes.

There was a moment of confused silence. "Understand what?"

"You once said you've been told that you tend to think loudly. I see what they were talking about."

He chuckled softly. "I'm terribly sorry. I'll try to be quieter from now on."

"Don't. Maybe I'll learn something by listening to this silence that's full of your thoughts."

Another chuckle left his lips, and he drew back slightly to look at me. I opened my eyes, pulling back to see his face.

"Seriously, though," I said, reaching out to trace the angle of his jaw with my finger. "What's on your mind?"

He didn't answer right away. He just stared into my eyes for a long moment, and then he breathed in slowly, before exhaling a quiet sigh. "I'm just still wondering...what could've upset you earlier this afternoon."

"It bothers you that much?"

He nodded. "Yes. Of course. I'd just like to know what troubled you so much it made you cry."

I held his gaze for a while, giving him a soft smile. "That's not exactly fair," I pointed out gently, keeping my voice light. "You never tell me about the things that trouble you, after all. About things that upset you."

That gave him pause. His eyes left mine, and then a small frown appeared between his eyebrows. It was a moment before he spoke again.

"You're right, I suppose," he admitted. "It's not fair. It's...it's wrong of me to demand answers from you, given how unwilling I am to give you any. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry."

I stroked a finger over his cheek. "Don't worry about it. I didn't say that to bully you into telling me anything you don't want to share," I explained softly. "I hope you know that. Of course, I'm curious, and concerned. I mean, how could I not want to know more about you? To learn about the things that made you the person you are now? But I'm not forcing you to tell me anything. Like I said that one time, I'm just worried about you sometimes. And if you someday find you want to talk about it, I'm listening. I want you to know that."

He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "Thank you, Bella. I'll...I'll remember that." He swallowed, his hand continuing to stroke my hair. He drew in a steadying breath, closing his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again, he stared blankly at a spot somewhere over my shoulder. The shadows under his eyes seemed more prominent now; they almost looked like bruises. "I suppose, one reason why I don't talk about my issues is simply because...because I've learned talking doesn't help. Talking doesn't change things. It doesn't bring...anything back."

I wanted to ask him what it was he wanted to change, what he wanted to get back, but I didn't want to pressure him. "I assume, in order to be so certain about that, you've tried to talk about things with someone in the past?"

He nodded. "I have."

"Have you ever been to...therapy or anything? I mean, sometimes it's different, when it's someone professional–"

He nodded again before I managed to finish. "I've done it all, Bella. Trust me."

"Okay." I waited until he met my eyes, and then I reached out to trace the line of his lips with my finger. "I just needed to ask. To make sure."

A familiar, sad smile tugged at his mouth, and he took my hand, bringing my knuckles to his lips. "Don't worry about me," he murmured, like so many other times before. "I've survived this far, haven't I?" He gave a small, joyless laugh, and it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he tried to convince me.

 _But how long can you survive if you keep going like this?_

I didn't say that out loud, even though I wanted to. Instead, I inched closer to him, adjusting the blanket, so it was covering us completely.

"Alright. Since you keep asking, and since it genuinely seems to bother you...I just had a tiny meltdown when I was visiting Rosalie. But it's all better now. I'm...working on it."

Carlisle nodded. I could see from his eyes he had hoped for a more detailed answer, but he accepted my words, anyway. He pulled me closer to his body, and as I snuggled against him, I could feel the outlines of the sapphire necklace where it pressed against our chests. I closed my eyes and sighed.

 _Yeah. I'm working on it._


	14. Heavy

_**"Is it still considered a heartache when, in fact, it's your entire body and soul that feel broken?"**_

\- Jaf Liethers -

* * *

 **Heavy**

When I woke up the next morning, I knew right away I was going to have a bad day. For some reason, I felt drowsy and unusually tired as I turned off the alarm and dragged myself out of bed. I wasn't surprised to see Carlisle was already up. I heard sounds from the kitchen, and I figured he was making coffee and preparing for the day. There was a moist towel at the foot of the bed; he'd already showered.

I remembered we were supposed to go out to dinner tonight, and the thought managed to lift my spirits. Then, I remembered I was supposed to ask him about the necklace and bring up all this stuff that had been bothering me for these past couple of days. The thought sent a wave of anxiety through me. As if this wasn't enough, as I grabbed a towel and a fresh set of clothes for myself, I stubbed my toe against the edge of the dresser. After that, I felt just irritated. Once again, I had a strong feeling this wasn't going to be my day.

I stayed in the shower longer than I'd intended, and by the time I got out, I was running late. Warm showers usually woke me up better than anything, but after I'd blow-dried my hair and gotten dressed, I still felt as if I had a hangover or something. I found it very odd I was feeling so tired – we had gone to bed so early the previous night.

I wasn't very hungry, but I forced myself to eat some breakfast. As Carlisle poured me more coffee and began to eat his second slice of toast, he gave me a close look.

"Everything alright?" he asked, studying me carefully.

I nodded, taking a small bite of my own toast. "I just feel tired, and kind of...strange. Maybe I'm coming down with something."

He frowned and reached across the table to touch my forehead. "Well, you're not warm. Not yet, at least."

"This sucks. We were supposed to go out tonight."

"It's fine. If you're not better by the evening, I can cancel the reservations. We'll go to dinner some other time. Let's wait and see how you feel in the afternoon."

"Yeah. Maybe I just had too much coffee yesterday, and it affected my sleep." I wondered idly how Carlisle was able to stay so functional. If I felt this bad after a poorly slept night, I could only imagine what he felt like most of the time.

My morning didn't exactly get any better after that – I couldn't find my truck key anywhere. I was sure I'd had it yesterday. I looked everywhere; I checked my pockets, and I checked every counter and table I had in my apartment. Carlisle went to see if I'd forgotten it in the truck, and meanwhile, I turned the laundry basket upside down, but nothing. He came back just as I emptied the contents of my bag on the living room coffee table, and he told me what I already knew. The doors of the truck were locked, and no key. I glanced at the clock and quickly began to shove things back into my bag, not even looking at what I was doing, and gladly accepted Carlisle's offer to drop me off on his way to the campus.

"Will I see you at lunch?" I asked him, as he stopped the car in front of the café a few minutes later. I was surprised when he hesitated. He'd spent almost every lunch hour with me at the café this week, if I'd happened to be on my shift.

"Actually, I have an appointment after my first class, and I'm not sure how long it'll take. I might not have time to have a lunch break at all today. But I'll pick you up in the afternoon, okay?"

I nodded, wondering to myself what the appointment was about, but I didn't ask – it was none of my business, after all. Then, I glanced at the car clock and cursed quietly, and I forgot about the whole thing altogether.

I managed to work a little over an hour before my strange fatigue reared its head again. This time, it brought a dull, throbbing headache with it and a wave of nausea. Normally, the noise and commotion of the café didn't bother me, but after a few minutes, I had to make a trip to the backroom to get away for a while; suddenly, every sound and smell seemed uncommonly amplified.

My earlier weariness was beginning to receive an explanation; I didn't know why I hadn't realized right away what was going on. But then again, my migraines didn't usually start like this.

I had to blink to clear my vision, and I hurried to my bag, hoping if I took my medication now, I might be able to work until my shift ended. It was a busy Friday morning, and I didn't want to leave the other waitress in trouble. But as I shuffled through my bag, the bottle of pills I always kept with me wasn't there. Momentarily, I was stumped. But then, I remembered I'd dumped the contents of my bag on the living room coffee table in the morning, when I'd been looking for my keys. The pill bottle must still be there.

It wasn't the only thing I'd forgotten in my hurry – my wallet was missing, too. That ruled out making a run to the nearest pharmacy.

Fantastic.

By the time I'd managed to explain my situation to the manager, I found it hard to keep my eyes open. The lighting of the café seemed too bright, making me feel as if someone was shoving needles through my eyeballs. The manager gladly gave me the rest of the day off, making me wonder if my face was all green. Maybe she was worried she'd have to start mopping the floors if she didn't get me out the door fast enough.

Changing out of my waitress outfit was a feat, and I wondered idly how I'd get home. Maybe it was a good thing Carlisle had given me a ride, so I didn't have my truck – I wasn't sure if I could drive safely in this state, anyway. But that obviously presented another problem. As I stepped outside into the cool September air, I realized I couldn't call him and ask him to drive me home. I knew his class might be over by now, but he had that appointment he had mentioned. Taking a cab sounded more than tempting, but again, my wallet was at home. I hoped it was having a good time with my migraine pills. I imagined they were sitting on my coffee table and laughing at me. The two things I would have needed the most right now, and I hadn't put them in my bag in my hurry. Talking about irony at its finest.

This really, _really_ wasn't my day.

The only solution was to walk. Maybe fresh air would do some good. Rubbing my temples in a feeble attempt to lessen the pulsing pain in my head, I began to head toward my apartment. Each step seemed heavier than the last, and I had to stop every now and then to close my eyes for a bit. My vision was blurry at the edges, and the dull throbbing in my head was rapidly becoming sharp pounding.

There was a small diner a few blocks away from the café, and the smell of food wafting from there turned my stomach. The smell was strong, despite the fact that the diner was on the other side of the street, and I held my breath, trying to pass the place as quickly as possible. But as I looked up from the sidewalk and happened to glance across the street toward the diner, something I saw made me stop and feel like my feet were glued to the pavement.

Agony that had nothing to do with my migraine settled over me. Suddenly, it wasn't the smell of food that made me nauseous. Even the sharp pounding in my head became inessential, as I saw the person sitting at one of the outside tables in front of the diner.

It was Carlisle. And he wasn't alone.

All I could do was just stare. The woman in his company...there were no words to describe her. Maybe it was my less-than-confident side talking, but I thought you only saw gorgeous women like her in movies and magazines. She had a heart-shaped, well-proportioned face, and her caramel-colored hair fell over her shoulders in perfect, soft waves. She had just the right amount of curves – I could tell that much, regardless of the fact that she was sitting.

Who was she? And what was she doing here with Carlisle? He had told me he had an appointment. Apparently, this woman was his appointment. Maybe they were friends – or coworkers. Maybe she was a professor, too.

Something told me, though, that this wasn't the case.

Still frozen on the spot, I stared across the street at their table, and then I kind of wanted to pour bleach into my eyes. The woman reached out to take Carlisle's hand, giving it a squeeze. There was nothing wrong about that, I guess – friends held each other's hands, after all – but Carlisle's response wasn't exactly... _friendly_. He squeezed her hand back, and then he brought it up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. And his eyes...his eyes never left hers. There was a gentle, adoring look in them as he gazed at her.

I couldn't even count how many times he had given me that same, gentle attention during the past few weeks. How many times had he taken my hand, just like that? How many times had he looked at me with those same blue eyes, while his lips had caressed my skin?

I felt like I couldn't breathe. Maybe it was the migraine, or maybe it was the scene before me, but I began to feel dizzy. I just couldn't... _understand_. He'd told me more than once he wasn't seeing multiple women at the same time. He'd told me it wasn't his thing. I had believed him. No, more than that.

I had _trusted_ him.

They were so focused on each other, they didn't see me standing across the street. I felt like I really didn't need to stick around to see any more of this, but still, I couldn't make myself move. I guess my fuzzy brain was still trying to come to grips with what I was seeing.

The woman reached out to touch Carlisle's cheek. There was something very tender, something very intimate about the touch – it was like she had done it hundreds of times before. I was suddenly sure she had. She was nodding at something Carlisle was saying, her eyes kind and sympathetic, making me turn my attention back to the blond man sitting across from her.

I noticed the table between them was so small, their legs were touching. Their ankles were intertwined. There was something so intimate about it that seeing it hurt more than the tender gazes they were giving each other.

Carlisle was still hanging on to the woman's hand, like he might drown if he let go, and the look in his eyes...it was now bleak, serious. He was talking again. I saw him close his eyes and shake his head in a resigned manner. The woman reached out with her free hand to stroke his forearm. She was speaking now, the look in her eyes understanding. It was almost like she was trying to console him about something. I saw Carlisle nod slowly, before he opened his eyes, and then he gave her a smile.

There was something different about that smile – it was genuine, heartfelt. It wasn't one of those sad smiles he usually gave me. It wasn't the smile I'd gotten so used to during the past few weeks.

It was one of those...it was one of those _I love you_ smiles.

After a moment, he got up from his seat and rounded the small table. She got up as well, and as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her cheek tenderly, that was the moment when the pain in my head reached an unbearable degree. It was also the moment when I decided I'd seen enough. I turned away at the same time as they broke their warm embrace.

And that was when Carlisle saw me.

At that point, I couldn't have cared less. I registered the look of surprise and alarm on his face before I began to walk straight ahead, keeping my eyes on the sidewalk. Every step sent a jolt of pain through my head. I was suddenly oddly glad about having a migraine – the pounding in my head took my entire focus. It took the worst edge off the pain in my heart, or at least it overshadowed it.

For now.

I heard Carlisle calling out my name, but I didn't stop. I kept right on walking, until I could no longer hear his voice, until I could no longer see him embrace her in my mind's eye. I felt drained, both mentally and physically, and even the thought of having to deal with what I'd just seen seemed impossible.

I later realized I couldn't remember much about the unsteady walk to my apartment – it was a small miracle I even made it there. My hands were trembling so badly that getting the front door open took some effort, and after shedding my coat and toeing off my shoes, I made a beeline for the living room couch and lay down. The grey light coming from the window seemed brighter than it was, sending bolts of searing pain through my head. It made me remember the bottle of pills on the coffee table. I got up with wobbly legs, barely able to keep my balance, as I grabbed the bottle and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. After taking the medication, I made my way back to the couch again; my bedroom seemed to be too far away, and my legs refused to carry me any further.

For what seemed like a very long time, or maybe it was just a few minutes, I kept drifting somewhere between wakefulness and an overpowering sense of exhaustion. There was a moment when I didn't know if I was awake or not, or if my eyes were open or closed. I kept seeing strange flashes of light, but I knew better than to believe the things I saw were there. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a migraine attack this bad, and I just kept praying the pills would kick in. I startled awake every few minutes – or maybe it was seconds, I didn't know – feeling like my body was so heavy I couldn't lift a finger. My ears were ringing like crazy, and I'd suppose that was the reason why it took a while to hear the loud, insistent knocking on the front door.

I opened my eyes, but I regretted it immediately. A strong wave of nausea washed over me, and I swallowed the bile that crept up my throat, slowly dragging myself up into a sitting position. Stubbornly ignoring the fact that everything was spinning, I made my way towards the front door with tiny, unsteady steps. Again, it took some time to get the door unlocked. I had to steady myself against the doorframe as I pulled the door open.

" _Whatthehelldoyouwant?_ " The blinding light coming from outside made me slam my eyes shut. That was when I realized I hadn't even bothered to check who was behind the door. I had a good hunch about it, though, despite my disoriented state.

"What's going on?" Carlisle's voice asked. "Why aren't you at work? I've tried to call you at least fifteen times – why aren't you answering your phone?"

"Because I have a _fucking_ _migraine_ , that's why," I managed to hiss.

I felt my body slide down against the doorframe an inch or two, and I thought idly to myself that it was the first time he'd heard me cuss like that, and then, I wasn't able to think about anything at all; I was suddenly retching my breakfast all over the doormat.

Instantly, warm hands were gathering my hair, holding it out of the way. I wasn't sure what happened next. Everything was spinning again, but this time, it felt different. I felt like I was swaying and rocking, and it took me a while to understand I was being carried. A moment passed, and then, I was placed on something soft. For some reason, it annoyed me immensely that Carlisle didn't let me lie down right away, but he kept me in a sitting position instead.

He was asking questions, lifting my eyelids one at a time, and when he asked me if I could bend my head forward and put my chin to my chest, I just wanted to tear my head off to get rid of the pounding – and maybe tear his off as well while I was at it.

I didn't know if my responses were satisfying, but after a while, he offered me two pills and held a glass to my lips. I just wanted to sleep, but I swallowed the pills, too tired to protest. When he finally let me lie down, the pillow under my head felt like a bag of bricks. I had no energy to care.

I was vaguely aware of someone closing the drapes, sending the room into darkness, vaguely aware of the icy cold washcloth placed over my eyes and forehead. I was more aware of other things, however; a warm hand clasping mine, and soft lips pressing against my knuckles. There were quiet words, too. Words I was too tired to hear.

Before the heaviness of sleep claimed me, I made a mental note to ask him about it later.

* * *

Wakefulness came slowly. It was very silent; that surprised me a bit. My ears were no longer ringing, and the sharp pounding in my head had faded to dull, occasional stabs. The feeling was bearable, almost pleasant, compared to what it had been before.

The cold washcloth had disappeared, I noticed. I blinked slowly, pleased that the small movement didn't make me feel like someone was jamming sharp sticks into my eyes. It was completely dark, and I turned my head carefully, realizing I was crazy thirsty.

There was movement somewhere close to me. And then, a careful, hesitant touch on my right shoulder.

"Are you awake?" Carlisle's voice was just a quiet whisper.

Licking my dry lips, I nodded, but then, I realized he couldn't see it, since it was dark. "Yeah."

"Hang on."

The bed jostled slightly, and a weight disappeared from somewhere very close to me; I realized he'd been sitting right next to me on the edge of the bed. There was a quiet click across the room as he turned on the light in the bathroom, leaving the door open. I appreciated that he didn't turn on the bedside lamp. Even the thought made my brain and eyes ache.

"I'll be right back." He disappeared into the hallway, and before I had time to wonder where he'd gone, he was already back, carrying a glass and a carton of orange juice. After filling the glass and placing it on the bedside table, he slipped his arm around my shoulders to help me sit up. He took his place on the edge of the bed again, offering me the juice. I took it gladly, feeling as though I could drink the entire carton. I didn't have to ask him to pour me more; as soon as the glass was empty, he refilled it wordlessly.

"What time is it?" I asked, when I was done drinking, avoiding his eyes. Carlisle took the empty glass from me and placed it on the bedside table.

"Just after two in the morning," he answered, giving me a close look. "How are you feeling?"

I blinked, trying to comprehend what he'd said about the time. "How long was I asleep?"

"A little over thirteen hours."

I blinked again. I'd never slept that long in one go – not even as a teenager. I stared at the crumpled bed covers, realizing my jeans were gone, and my sweater had been replaced with a t-shirt. "You've been here all this time?" I asked quietly, still not meeting his eyes.

"Yes. Of course." I could feel him watching me. I didn't know if he was assessing my physical state or my mental one. Maybe both. He seemed to reach the same conclusion as I did; I wasn't fit to talk about what had happened yesterday, about what I'd seen. He helped me lie down again, telling me I should try to sleep some more. A part of me wondered if he was just trying to postpone the inevitable discussion, but I complied and fell on the pillows; the beautiful woman with caramel hair was something I didn't want to get into right now, either. I just had no energy. No strength.

I closed my eyes, and before sleep claimed me, I was very aware of his comforting weight next to me on the bed.


	15. Deeper Meanings

_**"Maybe there's something you're afraid to say,**_

 _ **or someone you're afraid to love,**_

 _ **or somewhere you're afraid to go.**_

 _ **It's gonna hurt. It's gonna hurt because it matters."**_

\- John Green -

* * *

 **Deeper Meanings**

The next time I woke up, instead of sitting on the edge of the bed, Carlisle was lying next to me, looking like he had all but collapsed there. I noticed he was still fully dressed; he was wearing the same blue shirt and black pants he'd put on the previous morning. His tie was gone, though, and the upper buttons of his shirt were undone. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw it was just past six. In the morning, I assumed. I felt like my sense of time had become distorted.

I sat up slowly, still feeling strangely heavy and exhausted. No surprise there; the day after a migraine was always like this. Even though I felt like I'd been run over by a train, I dragged myself up. After gathering some clothes from the dresser, I took a long, hot shower. When I emerged from the bathroom after brushing my teeth, I felt a little better.

Meanwhile, Carlisle had woken up. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, lifting his gaze from the floor, as he heard the bathroom door open.

"How are you feeling?" He watched me closely, as I dried my hair with a towel.

I gave him a wan smile. "A little more like a human being."

He nodded slowly and rubbed a hand over his eyes, making me wonder how long he'd sat by my side the previous night before giving in to his exhaustion. I sat down on the other side of the bed and just watched him for a while. He sensed my gaze and looked up.

"Um...thanks for watching over me last night. Yesterday. Whenever," I murmured, suddenly feeling like I didn't know what to say to him. What to think when I looked at him. When he looked at me.

"You don't have to thank me for that, Bella. I'm just glad you're feeling better. Have you ever had a migraine episode this severe?"

I shrugged. "Uh...not in a couple of years, no. It probably wouldn't have gotten so bad, if I'd had my medication with me yesterday. When I was looking for the truck key yesterday morning, I dumped the things in my bag on the coffee table, and that's how I accidentally left the pills at home. Just my luck."

Carlisle nodded again, giving me a weak smile. "I found the key while you were sleeping, by the way. It was under the couch."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Of course. Under the couch. The only place I didn't check."

He gave a soft chuckle, but he sobered quickly. When he looked at me again, there was hesitation in his eyes. "Why didn't you call me and tell me you were unwell? I'd have given you a ride home."

I avoided his eyes. "I didn't know if you were still in class. And then you said...well, you said you had that appointment..." I trailed off, finally turning to meet his gaze.

"Right." He hesitated again, searching for words. "Listen, Bella...about the woman you saw me with. She's...well, she's–" He sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

Thinking about the whole thing made me feel like I wanted to throw things. I was also kind of worried about what he had to say. "Do you really owe me an explanation?" I asked when he remained silent. My voice was cooler than I'd intended. But then again, I did have the right to be upset, didn't I? I guess I just didn't want _him_ to know how upset I really was. "I mean, we're not answerable to each other, are we now? We both have the right to do pretty much anything we want. You don't have to explain."

He just looked at me for a long moment, not saying anything. "Is that how you really feel?" he asked quietly. I couldn't interpret his tone.

I shrugged. "That's what we agreed on, isn't it? Nothing serious. That's it. I'm fine with it."

"Are you?"

I blew out a frustrated breath. "Look, what do you want me to say? What do you _want_ from me?"

Carlisle ran a weary hand down his face, staying silent for another long moment. After a while, he got up slowly and walked around the bed. I could feel his eyes studying my face, as he sat down next to me.

"I want you to be honest with me," he answered softly. "I saw your face yesterday, Bella. You were upset. When you saw me with that woman...and when you turned away and ignored me, when I called out your name... Why didn't you stop, by the way? When I called after you?"

I gave a bleak laugh. "Because I felt like my brain was on fire. I wasn't exactly in a state where I could appreciate anything you had to say, anyway." I gave him a cool look. "And as for why I was upset...I was just very surprised to see you with someone. You've told me more than once you don't date multiple women at the same time, and...and then I see you with someone else. When you told me you had an appointment, I figured you were going to the dentist or something. What was I supposed to feel, when I saw you with her? Of course I was...shocked. And yeah, maybe a little upset."

"You're right. I shouldn't have said I had an appointment – I should've been clearer about my plans. I'm sorry about that, I really am. But Bella, when I told you all those weeks ago that I don't date multiple women at the same time, I was nothing but honest with you about that. That's what I wanted to tell you – that's what I would've liked to clear up yesterday. The woman you saw me with is an old friend of mine. A very good friend. Like I said, maybe I should've told you about my plans to meet her, but..." He sighed. "Well, to be honest...I still don't know why I didn't."

"I do," I answered, looking at him sadly. "You didn't tell me, because that's personal stuff, and you don't talk to me about personal stuff."

He didn't have anything to say to that. Some secret part of me was now glad I knew that what I'd witnessed yesterday hadn't been a date, but at the same time, I just felt oddly empty. I remembered the way Carlisle had looked at that woman yesterday, and I remembered the obvious affection and adoration in his eyes. I remembered the way he had kissed her hands and cheek, the way he had embraced her, like she was the only thing holding him to the earth.

I drew in a shaky breath. "You know, if I'm being entirely honest, it looked to me like she's more than just a friend to you."

Momentarily, it seemed as if he wanted to take my hand, but he caught himself. Pulling in a deep breath, he looked at me, holding my gaze in his own.

"I know how it must've looked to you," he murmured, "But you have to believe me when I say we're just friends now, and nothing more. I've known her for a very long time, and I can't deny we're close. One reason is that we used to…well, we used to be together. It was a long time ago. It was...it was in some different world. It was in a whole other lifetime, really." He gave a quiet, joyless laugh and shook his head sadly.

I swallowed, feeling some of my frustration melt away. He sounded sincere, and I wanted to believe he wouldn't lie to me about this. "How often do you see her?"

"Sometimes, once a month, sometimes, once a week. It depends. She's a busy woman."

"Is she the architect you once mentioned? The one who worked on your house?"

He nodded slowly, observing my reaction. "Yes."

"The one who stayed the night at your place a couple of weeks back?"

"Bella, it's not what you're thinking."

"And what do you think I'm thinking?"

Carlisle ran a hand through his hair in a weary gesture, his blue eyes gauging me. "Well, it's obvious what you're implying, isn't it? You seem to believe she's still something more than just a friend to me. She used to be something more, yes, but things are a little different now. Things are _very_ different. We're just good friends, that's all. I see her every now and then, because she's been a very integral part of my life for a very long time. That'll never change, despite the fact that we're no longer together. I don't know if this convinces you, but she's happily married. I know her husband."

I swallowed, something like relief washing over me. If she was married, there was no way Carlisle would be involved with her – he wasn't that sort of man. I knew that.

But there was a part of me that was still incredibly jealous of this woman. How could I not be? She obviously knew Carlisle very well, and from what I'd seen yesterday, he seemed to be able to talk about things with her. I remembered the bleak look on his face, when he had spoken to her yesterday, and I remembered the warmth and sympathy in the woman's eyes, when she had gently stroked his arm. And then there had been that gentle embrace...

A sigh left my lips. Yes, maybe I was a little jealous of what they had, but if I was being entirely honest, the less selfish part of me was also kind of relieved that he had someone important in his life, someone who understood him. Someone he could talk to about the troubling things he never shared with me. I tried to imagine what it would be like if I didn't have Rosalie, if I couldn't go to her when I needed to talk, and I found that even the thought was too horrible to consider.

I wondered idly what Carlisle and that woman had been talking about yesterday. Their discussion had seemed pretty serious.

I'd been staring at my hands for the past moments, and I lifted my gaze now, noticing Carlisle was observing me closely. Probably expecting me to respond to his words somehow.

"So, why...why aren't you with her anymore?" I asked slowly, not sure if I had the right to ask something like that. But it wasn't as if I had anything to lose at this point. "I mean, I saw how you looked at each other yesterday. You obviously care about each other. Even the blind could see that. Why didn't you stay together?"

He gave me a familiar, sad smile. "It was one of those things," he murmured. "People grow apart for...for some reasons. Let's just say...something happened, and neither of us dealt with it very well. Or no, that's not true. _I_ didn't deal with it very well," he sighed. "And you know what they say. Life happens when you're busy making other plans." He gave a bitter laugh and ran a hand through his hair again, swallowing hard. He flicked me a look, apparently trying to read my expression and determine how I felt about all this. "I guess I...understand...if the thought of me having a good female friend is hard to accept, especially since we have a history together. If you're uncomfortable with it..."

"I'm not...uncomfortable," I said carefully, searching myself and trying to determine if I was sincere or not. "And even if I was, it wouldn't be right of me to make you feel as though you can't see her. I wouldn't ask you to give up a friend. Even if I did...well, if you have any integrity at all, you'd refuse to even consider the thought of turning your back on her, just because someone you're sleeping with demands it. I know there are people who stubbornly insist a man and a woman can't have a purely platonic relationship, and I don't want to be one of those people. I really don't."

He chuckled softly. "I know you'd never ask me to give up a friend. I know you'd never be so small-minded." He paused, reaching out to touch my hand briefly. He didn't take it, though; something made him unsure. "But Bella...feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but I have this feeling something about this still bothers you. Whether you're willing to admit it or not."

I bit my lip, considering his words carefully and wondering when he'd learned to read me so well. Or was I just that obvious? Maybe. I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"It's...it's not the fact that you have a close female friend. In fact, I don't think it's any particular thing. You just...you just confuse me sometimes, I guess. A lot of times." Unconsciously, my hand sought the sapphire pendant around my neck. Carlisle's eyes shifted from my face, catching the small movement. I let my hand drop back into my lap. "You always keep me guessing," I continued quietly. "You just...you keep me on my toes. It can be a good thing, sometimes," I admitted, drawing a small smile from him. "But, it's also kind of...I don't know, nerve-wracking. It drives me crazy sometimes."

Carlisle nodded slowly, his eyes studying the rug on the floor.

"I, uh...I understand," he answered after a while, avoiding my gaze. His voice was forcibly calm, like something about my words had upset him, and he was doing his best to hide it. "That's why...well, that's why relationships aren't my thing. That's why I hesitated in starting this thing with you. I was worried this might happen. That I might make you feel this way."

"Is that a nice way to say, 'I told you so?' That we shouldn't have even started?"

"No. God, no," he shook his head, and now, he took my hand and held it tightly. I squeezed his hand and held his gaze as he turned to look at me, hoping his eyes would tell me the truth, that they would reveal the things his lips refused to speak.

"So, you don't regret this?" I asked. "That we started this...well, whatever this is?"

I could see he wanted to shake his head, to say no, but again, there was uncertainty in him. Like he was doubting whether he could be honest with me or not.

"I could never regret meeting you," he answered carefully, searching for words. "You're a wonderful person, Bella. I haven't known you for long, but already, I can tell you're a lovely woman. You're everything a person is supposed to be. _Everything_. And because of that, you...you help me forget things that are better not to think about. You just have a way about you. Like I told you all those weeks ago, I'm drawn to your presence. You pull me into you like the moon to the tide." He paused, swallowing. "You asked if I regretted this...this thing we have. My answer is, I'll only regret it if I end up hurting you. Disappointing you."

I frowned. "You say it like...like you're almost certain it'll happen. Like it's not in your hands, whether you end up disappointing me or not." I shook my head, confused. "Or maybe...maybe it's the other way around. Maybe it _is_ in your hands, in your power. And the real question is...why would you choose to hurt or disappoint someone if you have an option?"

He shook his head. "It's not that...simple."

I didn't really know what to say to that. "Yeah. I guess it never is."

He tightened his hold around my hand. It was obvious he wanted to explain, that he wanted me to understand. There was distress in his blue eyes, and the shadows under them seemed suddenly sharper, like they'd been drawn with charcoal. His voice was quiet when he spoke again. Quiet, but...bitter.

"I suppose...well, when I met you, I told you that, maybe it's time for me to stop looking. That maybe I should be content with my life the way it is. That was supposed to be my way of making sure I don't end up disappointing anyone ever again," he began to explain, his eyes studying our linked hands.

"I'd pretty much made my decision about it, about staying alone. But then...then I met you and...and then you wrote those innocent words on the check. 'Those who don't search for anything are harder to disappoint.' Your words...for a moment, I thought they could mean something. That they were meant for _me_. I don't believe in fate – I lost trust in those kinds of things a long time ago, after learning the hard way that there's no greater purpose behind small, everyday occurrences, behind bigger tragedies or losses.

"I learned that people try to look for deeper meanings whenever something terrible happens to them, and that's simply because they can't deal with the fact that, sometimes, bad things just happen – that they're an inevitable part of life. People need to believe that, when they're faced with heartache and loss, something good follows eventually. They need to believe that in order to survive. They can't accept the obvious fact that there's no greater importance behind struggles and hardships. Instead of facing the truth, they'd rather live a lie by telling themselves everything has a purpose. A reason."

I listened to his outburst without a word, thinking to myself that he'd never spoken so many words in one go. "That's...that's a rather harsh way to look at life," I said carefully.

"Well, that's how I look at it. And I have a reason why I view things like I do, Bella. I wasn't always like this. But once you cross the line to this side...well, it's not so easy to go back anymore. The world...it's a different place to me than it is to you. I sometimes envy you for...for being able to wake up in the morning and believe everything is going to be alright."

"Okay," I murmured, nodding. "I'm sure you have your reasons to feel like you do. I didn't mean to belittle your feelings when I said that."

He squeezed my hand. "I know that. And I..." He blew out a breath and ran his other hand down his face in a weary manner. "I didn't mean to depress you by burdening you with my thoughts. That's the last thing I want, to bring you down with me.

"What I tried to say was...even though I don't believe in fate, there was something about you, something in your words, that made me change my mind about getting to know you. And you did that. You changed my mind without even knowing I was struggling with something, and you did that just by writing a few simple words on a piece of paper. That's how much impact you've had on me, Bella, and for God's sake...you don't even seem to be aware of it."

His eyes were sad as he reached out with his free hand to cup my cheek. I leaned into his touch, trying to wrap my mind around the things he had told me. I still didn't know what was going on with him – what had happened to make him view everything the way he did – and I still didn't know what he...well, what he _wanted_. It was strange; I felt like I'd learned more about him during the past minutes than I could ever expect, but at the same time, I realized I was even more confused than I was the day before.

"So, what if I hadn't written those words on the check that day?" I asked. "What if I hadn't run into you that Sunday? What if you'd walked from that cemetery a minute later and you hadn't seen me? What if..." I trailed off and shook my head, letting out a weary breath. "I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't ask any of these things. What-ifs are pointless, and they drive you crazy."

Carlisle was silent for a beat. "I don't know. My life is pretty much based on what-ifs and what-could-have-beens," he mused. Then, he gave me a glance, smiling softly. "But you're right. What-ifs can drive you mad, and maybe even worse. You can get so stuck in them that you suddenly notice you have no way out."

I studied his face carefully. "Is that what happened to you?"

He smiled joylessly. "Eventually, yes." He squeezed my hand again, and after a moment, he brought it to his lips. "And to answer your questions...if you hadn't written those words on the check, and if we hadn't run into each other that Sunday weeks ago...I don't know. We probably wouldn't be here now." He leaned closer to place a soft kiss on my jawline. "But I'm...glad…that we're here. I'm glad I got to meet you. Don't ever doubt that, Bella."

His words were sweet, and they stirred something inside me. As he pulled away, I stared at our linked hands resting in my lap. Maybe I was crossing a line, maybe I was pushing too hard, but now that we'd come this far, I knew I had to know. Or at least I had to ask him and hope he'd answer.

Keeping my eyes on our linked hands, I licked my lips and drew in a steadying breath. "So, why did you give me this necklace?" My voice was quiet, nearing a whisper, but I knew he had heard it; I felt his hand tighten around mine. My free hand went to the sapphire pendant resting against my chest, and I brushed a thumb over it, almost like hoping a physical connection to it would help me see into his mind.

I lifted my gaze from my lap and saw Carlisle's eyes were studying the pendant. I didn't know if he looked at it so intensely because he was considering my question or because he wanted to avoid my eyes.

"When I saw it, I thought of you. And I knew I wanted to give it to you. I just...I just hoped you'd like it. It was your birthday, and I wanted to give you something special. Something you'd remember."

Even though that was pretty much what I'd expected him to say, I still felt a little disappointed. Maybe I shouldn't have been. I mean, what had I been hoping for? A love confession? No, no exactly. But I guess I'd been hoping for...something more.

Or was that the problem here? Was I overlooking and completely ignoring the few things he'd said, because they weren't something I'd been hoping for? Maybe. But on the other hand, what if I was looking too hard? If you did that, you eventually began to see things that weren't there.

Carlisle's hand cupped my cheek again; the touch pulled me from my thoughts.

"Where'd you go?" he asked. "Does your head still hurt?"

"No. I was just...thinking in circles, I guess."

"Thinking about what?" He seemed amused now; I wondered why. "What makes your thoughts circle?"

I smiled humorlessly. "You. What else. Like I said...you keep me on my toes."

He smiled sadly. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. Or at least, you're not doing it on purpose."

I was surprised when he seemed to consider my words carefully, staying silent for a long while. He was about to say something, but then, he seemed to change his mind, and he shook his head. He reached out to cup my face again, stroking a thumb over my chin.

"Do you think you could try to eat something?" he asked, observing me closely.

I shrugged. "I'm not really hungry, but maybe I should try to have something light. I feel like I've been run over by a bus."

He gave a soft chuckle. "I can imagine. You should take it easy today. Someone I know suffers from migraine hangovers as well, and he can barely get out of bed the day after a migraine." He stood up after tucking a moist strand of hair behind my ear, giving me an inquiring glance. "What would you like to have? Tea? Toast?"

I nodded. "Sounds good. Oh." I slammed my eyes shut and shook my head. A blush began to creep into my cheeks.

"What is it?"

I sighed. "Nothing. I just had a very attractive flashback of me throwing up in front of you yesterday. That's really embarrassing."

He laughed softly. "Don't worry about that. I used to be a doctor, remember? Believe me, I've seen everything there is to see. I had to throw out your doormat, though. It didn't exactly say 'welcome' anymore, if you know what I mean."

I closed my eyes and gave a quiet laugh, wanting to cover my face with my hands. "Oh."

"Don't worry about it," he said again. "There's nothing embarrassing about getting ill. I'm just glad it wasn't anything more serious. You...well, you gave me a scare. You looked so unwell, and for a moment, I thought you were having a brain hemorrhage or something."

"Oh, that's why you were checking my eyes and bending my head and all that stuff? I found it very annoying."

He chuckled again. "I just had to make sure." He turned away to leave the room, but he stopped when he noticed I was about to get up and follow him. "Stay put, Bella. I'll be back in a minute with you breakfast."

I mock-glowered at him. "Doctor's orders?"

"Exactly. Those orders include lots of bed rest and relaxation."

"Hmm. I'd like to know what this _bed rest_ includes."

He smiled, his blue eyes darkening slightly. "If you're a good patient, maybe you'll find out."

The look in his eyes made my stomach do flips, and I lay down obediently, smiling when I heard him laugh softly. He said it was useful that I allowed him to learn so easily about my soft spots, in case he ever had to blackmail me about something.

As he left the room, I thought to myself that _he_ was rapidly becoming one of those soft spots, no matter how forbidden and unwise it was.

* * *

Rosalie stopped by at my apartment on Sunday. Carlisle had gone to his house, telling me had some things to take care of before his lectures tomorrow. He'd suggested I could accompany him, and I'd wanted to say yes; his house was beautiful, and I gladly spent my time there. I could have easily made my time pass with something while he worked, but then Rosalie had called, asking if it was alright to drop by. I knew she was curious to hear what was going on, and I had to admit, spending a few hours apart from Carlisle would probably do me some good.

Not that I _wanted_ to get away from his company – just the opposite. I was enjoying his presence in my small home far too much. We hadn't talked about anything personal after our discussion the previous morning, even though we'd spent practically every moment together. He'd been very attentive to me, as I'd been recovering from my migraine, constantly asking me if there was anything I needed. His tender nurturing was very sweet, and it was easy to see that taking care of people was something he'd done before, that it was something he enjoyed. For the millionth time, I wondered what had happened to make him give up a career in medicine.

I did that a lot when I was with him; wondered. Especially after our discussion Saturday morning, I was at a complete loss when it came to figuring him out, and a part of me began to question if it was a wise idea to try to figure him out at all. I'd begun to feel like I might just lose myself in the process.

I still hadn't told him how I felt about him, thanks to the migraine fiasco. It made me wonder what would have happened, where we would have been now, if Friday had gone as planned, and we had gone out for dinner. Would I have chickened out, after all? And if I hadn't? How would he have reacted to the things I had to tell him? I didn't know.

A large part of me was still afraid to know.

"Are you alone?" Rosalie asked as I let her in early in the afternoon. She had to do a double-take on me – apparently, I still looked like hell. I'd slept at least ten hours the previous night, but still, I felt like I hadn't slept in a year. Stupid migraine.

I nodded. "Yeah. Carlisle had work stuff to do." She followed me into the kitchen, watching me carefully as I poured us coffee.

"Has something happened?" she asked me, taking off her coat and tossing it over a chair. "You look a little...I don't know...anemic?"

"Thanks." I rolled my eyes at her, passing her the coffee. "Everything's fine. Just tired."

"How did your dinner go on Friday? Did you talk to him? Did you ask about the necklace?"

"Well, we talked about some things, but we didn't do it over dinner." She followed me to the living room, and we sat down on the couch. I told her about the migraine attack and how I'd been pretty much unconscious for the entire day Friday.

"So, you still don't know what's going on with him?" Rosalie asked.

"Not really. In fact, everything seems even more complicated now. You know that small diner a few blocks from the café?" I told her about seeing Carlisle in front of the diner with another woman. Rosalie's eyes darkened dangerously, and I hurried to explain the rest of the story, telling her the matter was already settled, more or less.

"But I don't get it." She shook her head. "Why would he make it sound as though he just had some indefinite appointment? Why didn't he just be straight-up with you and tell you he was meeting a friend? A friend who just happens to be an ex of his?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is, if he's got nothing to hide, why wouldn't he be honest with you about what he's doing?"

I shrugged. "He's a bit like that, I guess. He just doesn't talk about personal things."

"That's it, then? Are you just going to take his word for it and believe they're just friends? Are you sure he doesn't have something going on with her?"

"I'm pretty sure. He told me she's married. Apparently, he knows her husband." Rosalie didn't look convinced. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Look, I know what you're thinking, and I know you're worried. Maybe you think I'm gullible, but I'm not. I know keeps some stuff from me. I know he doesn't tell me about a lot of things that are going on with him.

"But, I know – or I _feel_ , more likely – that he doesn't hide things from me, because he doesn't want me to know about them. He keeps some things to himself, because talking about them is very hard for him. I can see it in his eyes, how much it affects him if I accidentally bring up a difficult topic, for instance.

"Think about it. Imagine yourself in his position. If something bad had happened to you, something you can't get over, something you find impossible to talk about, why would you share it with someone you're just messing around with? Someone who's just passing by in your life?" I studied my hands. "I mean, I wouldn't want to go through that trouble if I were him. I wouldn't want to put myself through that."

Rosalie was silent for a moment, considering my words. "Okay. I guess you have a good point. It's funny, by the way. How you seem to understand where he's coming from, even though he doesn't tell you anything."

I shrugged. "I know how this sounds, but his eyes tell me a lot. I now understand why it's been said they're windows to the soul."

She was silent again, biting her bottom lip in a pondering manner. "So, is that how you feel? Is that what Carlisle believes? That you're just passing by in his life?"

"Well, that's what we signed up for. And besides, that's pretty much the impression I gave him yesterday. Before I learned the woman I saw was just a friend to him, and when he tried to explain why he met her on Friday, I made this big speech about how we weren't answerable to each other. That he didn't owe me an explanation. I guess I felt like I needed to prove I didn't give a damn, even if he dated other women behind my back. And now...well, if he took my words seriously – and I don't see why he wouldn't – he's under the impression there's nothing more to this. That I'm just having some innocent fun with him."

Rosalie blew out a breath. "Okay. That complicates things. Unless you did some damage control and said something later, something that might make him realize maybe you want something more, after all?"

I shook my head. "Not really. We talked about _some_ things. I told him he confuses the hell out of me. He said he's sorry about it. And once again, he seemed worried that he might end up hurting me or disappointing me in some way. It's almost like...like he's apologizing for something he hasn't even done yet. He also reminded me that, because of his issues – whatever they are – relationships are hard for him."

"Well, they don't seem _impossible_. If the woman you saw him with used to be together with him..."

I nodded. "Right. And if he's able to stay friends with an ex, he obviously isn't totally hopeless when it comes to people and relationships."

"Does he see her often? Does she live in Seattle?"

I shook my head, shrugging. "I didn't ask where she lives. But yeah, they see each other every now and then. You know, now when I think about it, I shouldn't have been so shocked about seeing her on Friday. Carlisle's mentioned her before, at least twice. I knew he had a female friend who's an architect and an interior designer. I knew he's known her for a long time – over twenty-five years, apparently – but before Friday, I had no idea they had a history together."

"Well, he could've mentioned it. I would've." Her tone was slightly disapproving.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Did you ask her name?"

I shook my head. "Why?"

Rosalie's eyes took on a reflective look. "Because I think we need a new theory. You once said you believe he's a widower, right? Maybe that's not the case, after all. Maybe he's just divorced. Maybe the woman you saw him with is his ex-wife."

I hadn't thought of that, which was very stupid of me. I remembered the silver ring in his bedside drawer and the simple but beautiful engraving on the inner surface. _July 15, 1995... C.C. & E.A.P ...Our Love Is Eternal..._

I shook my head, frowning. "Yeah, but...surely that's something he might've mentioned yesterday? He just said they were together a long time ago – he didn't say anything about being _married_ to her. Isn't that something he would've told me while we were on the subject?"

Rosalie raised her delicate eyebrows. "Is it?" she asked pointedly.

I stared at her, wanting to tell her yes, but then, I began to question it myself. Would he tell me about something like this? After all, he'd never even mentioned anything about being married. The only reason I knew about it was because I'd accidentally found the ring. If he felt like leaving something like that out, maybe he wouldn't bother telling me his good friend happened to be his ex-wife as well.

"Look, Bella," Rosalie said, when I'd been silent for a minute. "People are sometimes weird about these things. And given the fact that Carlisle clams up about personal matters on a regular basis, this is easily something he might've left out. Divorce is a hard thing for a lot of people. Some never get over it, never discuss it willingly. Think about Charlie."

I nodded, realizing she was right. I knew that, in a way, Charlie had moved on from what had happened with Renée, but I also knew he still missed my mother and second-guessed the decisions that had led to their divorce. And like Rosalie had just said, he never talked about their divorce willingly.

"And you say there are things that are hard for Carlisle to talk about," she continued, her tone reflective. "Maybe this is one of those things. Maybe their divorce is still a painful topic for him."

"I suppose," I admitted. "But how come they're such good friends, then? If their divorce was so difficult that Carlisle can't mention it, even in passing, then how are they able to keep in touch with each other at all, let alone be close friends?" I shook my head, my mind replaying the scene I'd witnessed in front of the diner. "You should've seen how he was with her. It was..." I sighed quietly. "It was obvious he cares about her. Like...a lot. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's in love with her still."

Rosalie took my hand. "If he's known her for over twenty-five years – and if they were married – then there's no doubt he loves her," she reminded me gently.

I nodded quickly. "I know that. And it's not that I can't accept it. Of course, I can. I just..." I blew out a breath and wrapped my fingers around my coffee mug, only now realizing I hadn't even tasted it. It was probably cold by now. I breathed in slowly, trying to gather my thoughts. "I'm not really jealous of his feelings for her, whatever those feelings are," I said slowly, trying to put my thoughts to words. "Of course, he has every right to care about her. I guess I'm just..."

"You're hoping someone will look at _you_ like that someday," Rosalie finished for me. "And you're hoping it'd be Carlisle."

I didn't have to answer her. I closed my eyes and opened them slowly, taking a sip from my coffee. It was cold, like I'd suspected, but I took another sip, anyway. "I don't know how I got here. _When_ I got here. I mean, I've only known him for a few weeks. I wasn't supposed to feel like this. I wasn't supposed to..." I drew in a steadying breath, "...fall in love with him."

There. It was out. For some reason, the words leaving my lips made me feel both better and worse.

Rosalie gave me a sympathetic smile. "You know what they say. The heart wants what the heart wants. I know that a little too well myself." She reached out to squeeze my shoulder. "I still think you're going to have to talk to him, sooner or later. And I suggest you do it sooner. I know this sounds bad, but I don't want you to waste your time with him, if he's not able to give you what you want. What you deserve."

"That's the problem. I _know_ he's not able to give me what I want. And I know if I now tell him about my feelings for him, he's going to say it's best if we don't see each other anymore. He's told me more than once he doesn't want to hurt me, and staying with me when I have feelings for him, feelings he can't return..." I shook my head. "He'd rather walk away. I know it. And I know it's pathetic of me – it's worse than pathetic – but a large part of me just wants to accept whatever little he's able to give."

"You're only human, Bella. You can't help your feelings, and you can't choose who you fall in love with. And I want you to know I'm not pressuring you into making this choice or that choice. All I can do is give you advice and support, and then just hope you don't get hurt." She placed her empty coffee mug on the table in front of the couch, pulling me into a quick embrace. "Now, are you sure he'd choose to walk away if you told him about your feelings? What about the necklace he gave you? Did you get a chance to ask about it?"

I nodded. "He said he wanted to give me something special. He said...he said he wanted to give me something I'd remember."

Rosalie frowned. "Well...that's vague."

"Tell me about it."

She gave me a small smile. "Don't get so depressed just yet. Maybe I'm just an incurable optimist, but it's just that...I've never seen you like this. You really like him, and I want you to fight for this thing. I'm not saying you should chain him to your bed or anything – or you can do that, too, that works sometimes, you know..." She winked at me, then, making me roll my eyes. "What I'm saying is, talk to him. Don't give up before you've even tried."

"Thanks." I tried to smile, thankful she hadn't given up, even though I kind of felt like I had every reason to.

"And now, since you're already miserable, let's talk about the ex. What did she look like?"

"You'd make a terrible therapist, you know," I murmured in a dry manner, sighing. "She was...pretty. Like, insanely pretty. Beautiful. I'd even dare to say she's almost every bit as gorgeous as you. She was slim but curvy, and well-dressed... Overall, she just looked very...distinguished." I paused. "Let's just say that even the thought of her spending nights at his house makes my brain burn and my self-esteem drop like a meteor."

Rosalie's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "Excuse me? She _spends nights_ at his house?"

"No, not really. I was exaggerating. I know she stayed one night at his place a few weeks ago."

"But nothing happened, as far as you know?"

"Well, Carlisle told me – voluntarily, even – that a friend of his had dropped by unannounced. And he also told me this friend of his was a woman. I thought it was odd, and even though it was rather naive of me, I trusted him when he said she's just a friend. And, well..." I hesitated. I could still remember how Carlisle had looked, when he'd come to see me at the café that day. I hadn't seen him in a week, and I'd already thought he wanted to break things off with me. But then, he'd stepped through the door, looking like he was just a ghost of himself, like he was ill...

"What?" Rosalie asked. "Is there something else?"

I bit my bottom lip, hesitating. For some reason, telling her about this seemed almost personal – like it wasn't my thing to share. I didn't know where that feeling came from.

"One reason why I didn't think much of her visit was because Carlisle looked...well, he looked really unwell, when he came to see me that week. It was almost like he'd been sick. It caught my attention. He just said he'd been busy with work, but...something told me he wasn't entirely honest with me. He looked terrible."

"What do you think was going on, then?"

I shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I'm pretty much in the dark about it. No surprise there." I heaved out a sigh. "Like you said, we need a new theory. If it turns out the woman he meets every now and then is his ex-wife, and he's not a widower like I've thought all this time..."

"You know, the only reason you thought he was a widower was because you saw him coming from the cemetery. Maybe you just happened to read too much into it. Maybe no one died. Some people like to visit cemeteries, because they find them peaceful. Or maybe he was visiting a relative's grave."

"Probably. I know his mom died when he was young. Maybe she's buried here in Seattle." I paused, mulling over her words. "But you know, seeing him come from the cemetery isn't the only reason why I assumed someone important to him died. He once said something like...like sometimes, it's impossible to regain what you've lost. And yesterday, he said a lot of stuff that makes me believe that, whatever happened to him, it wasn't something insignificant and small."

"I'm sure it wasn't." Rosalie took the barely touched coffee from me and got up. I followed her into the kitchen, as she poured me a new coffee and refilled her own mug. "So, what are you going to do? What's your plan?"

I took the coffee she offered and went to the fridge to pour some milk into it. "I don't have one. I guess...I guess I'll just have to see what happens. I've noticed that if I don't pressure him to talk, he sometimes surprises me by sharing bits and pieces of himself. Makes sense, I suppose. Bringing up difficult stuff is a lot easier, when no one's pressuring you into talking."

Rosalie nodded, raising the mug to her lips and taking a careful sip; the coffee was hot. "Now that you know about this old friend of his, maybe you could tell him you accidentally found the wedding ring. That could make him open up about some things."

"I don't know." I scratched my head, wondering how to explain my feelings when it came to that. "All along, I've felt like I shouldn't have found the ring in the first place – like I intruded on his privacy by finding it, as accidental as the whole thing was. And I just feel like it's _his_ decision to bring it up, not mine. It bothers me, of course, that he hasn't told me about his ended marriage, but at the same time, I understand that he must have a good reason not to bring it up. If I tell him about finding the ring, I guess it feels the same as if I'm confronting him about it. I feel like it's not my right to do that. I'm not supposed to grill him until he cracks. My point is, I just feel as if he's supposed to tell me about these things _willingly_."

"And what if he doesn't?" Rosalie asked. "What if you continue this casual relationship of yours, and let's say, after a few more months, what if he still hasn't said anything about it?"

I blew out a long sigh. "I don't know. I might easily be crazy by then." I paused, sipping my coffee. "Or maybe I reach my limit long before that and explode from all these unanswered questions." I stared blindly at a spot over her shoulder. "You were right all along. I'm not good at this. I'm not good at casual."

"You know, if we manage to figure this thing out, we'll be qualified to start our own detective agency. You have cop genes. I have...well, I have Emmett and some very sharp scissors. We'll be very successful."

I gave her a grin, pleased that she tried to bring some humor into the conversation. "Did you say qualified? Will we fight crime with hot coffee pots and an exfoliating cream tube?"

"And Emmett."

"Right. Shouldn't forget Emmett." I shook my head, thinking to myself that only Rosalie could make me smile in a frustrating situation like this.


	16. In Another Life

_**"Now, every time I witness a strong person, I want to know: What darkness did you conquer in your story?**_

 _ **Mountains do not rise without earthquakes."**_

\- Katherine McKennitt -

* * *

 **In Another Life**

It wasn't just the conscious part of my mind that wrestled with the endless amounts of questions I had about Carlisle; my subconscious was more than aware of my state of confusion. As time passed, I began to sleep restlessly and have strange dreams. Then, one night, I had a particularly bad one…

 _I had my hands full of silver wedding rings, and I tried to walk across the room without dropping them, thinking that, if I managed to put them back into the bedside drawer, everything would be fine again. But then, I dropped one of the rings, and then, I dropped the second one, and the third one, and the fourth...and as they hit the floor, the sound echoed from the walls like a thousand chimes. The rest of the rings jumped from my hands, like they suddenly had a mind of their own, and they fell to the floor at the same time as someone stepped into the room. I knew it was too late, then; that I could no longer hide._

 _"Where did you find those?" I heard Carlisle ask. I turned to face him, looking at him sadly._

 _"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked him. "I would've understood. Why didn't you tell me?"_

 _His blue eyes begged me to understand. "I wanted to," he answered. "Bella, I swear. I wanted to."_

 _"Then, why didn't you?"_

 _He closed his eyes, looking like he was in physical pain. "I couldn't." His voice was frail and beaten. If his eyes had begged for my understanding, his voice begged for my forgiveness. "You don't know what it's like, waking up every morning...knowing nothing will be the same. Knowing there's no liberation from this feeling. Knowing I can't make you happy."_

 _"I wanted to understand you," I answered, wanting him to know how much it hurt me that he had refused to let me in. "You could've said something. I was there, and I waited. But I can't wait forever. I won't. Why didn't you just tell me?"_

 _"I'm sorry." His voice was shaky, his blue eyes dark and tormented._

 _I shook my head and closed my eyes, and when I opened them, someone else was standing in Carlisle's place. A small girl with cornflower blue eyes and raven-black, unruly hair. There was something familiar about her, but before I could recall where I'd seen her, she was gone. Carlisle was back again, but he was walking towards the doorway now, his head lowered in guilt._

 _"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked again. I needed_ _an answer. I couldn't let him go, not now. Not before he had answered. "Carlisle, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me?"_

 _"Bella," he answered, but he didn't turn around to face me._

 _"Why didn't you tell me? I wanted to know, and you didn't tell me!"_

 _"Bella," he said again, but when I looked, I realized he was no longer there. "Bella... Bella... Bella..._ "

"Bella!"

I startled awake so violently, my heart skipped a few beats. Carlisle was leaning over me; I idly took notice that he was half-dressed. I sucked in a few steadying breaths and closed my eyes, still stuck in the strange dream.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked quietly. "Were you having a nightmare?" I opened my eyes; he was frowning down at me, his eyes concerned.

"I…I can't remember," I lied quickly, not even knowing why.

"You kept asking, 'Why didn't you tell me?' Does that mean anything to you?"

I sat up slowly, glancing at the clock; it was six thirty. "I…uh...I don't know. I think Rosalie was in my dream, or Emmett. Or both. Maybe I was arguing with them about something." I didn't know why I couldn't tell him the truth. That he was the one who'd been in my dream.

Carlisle sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing my messy hair away from my forehead. He was silent for a beat and just watched me. "You said my name," he murmured after a moment, his eyes gauging me carefully.

I raised my eyebrows, hoping I looked confused. "I did?"

"Yes. Repeatedly."

I gave him a smile, reaching out to fasten the upper buttons of his shirt and then fixing up the knot of his tie. "Well, if I said your name repeatedly, maybe it was an erotic dream." I wiggled my eyebrows at him playfully, drawing a soft chuckle from him.

"Well, if that's the case, why did you keep asking me about something I hadn't told you?"

I shrugged. "Beats me. My dreams never make sense, anyway. Do yours?"

His small smile fell, and it was a moment before he answered. "My dreams make too much sense." He leaned in to place a soft kiss on my cheek, and then he got up. "Do you have a late shift?"

I nodded, observing him carefully and wondering what his words had meant. "Yeah."

"Would you like to come over after you get off, and spend the night at my house for a change?"

"Sure."

He smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "I should get going, but you don't have to get up just yet. Try to get some more sleep."

I lay back down and gave him a languid look. "You know, I might do just that. Thank God I'm not a college professor, and I get to loiter in bed every now and then."

He chuckled, sitting back down and brushing my cheek with his lips. And like many times before, I tried to avoid his lips, as they eventually sought mine, too conscious of the fact that I hadn't freshened up yet. And like many times before, he wouldn't let up, until he'd managed to kiss me.

"Sweet dreams, Bella," he murmured, his nose brushing mine. "And by all means, have some erotic dreams about me, dreams where you call out my name repeatedly. I won't mind at all."

"I have nothing against those kinds of dreams," I told him and grabbed his tie, making him chuckle. "But you know, I'd also like to call out your name repeatedly in waking life as well. How does that sound?"

"Mmm." His nose was now drawing a line along my neck. "That sounds...very nice." He peeled back the covers from my chest, his hand slipping under my camisole. My body began to tingle all over as I felt his lips on my pulse point, and a shudder traveled through me as he rubbed a thumb over my nipple.

"Don't go to work," I managed to pant out. "Stay here with me." I held on to his tie with one hand, while the other stroked his thigh. "Your students will understand. They're old enough to learn there are all sorts of...priorities in life."

"And...let me guess. This is one of those priorities?"

"Uh huh."

He moaned against my neck as my hand traveled up his thigh, and my fingers went to the buckle of his belt. "Oh, Bella, you drive me out of my mind."

"In a bad way?" I asked, at the same time running the tips of my fingers over the growing bulge in his crotch. He breathed out loudly and dropped his forehead to my shoulder.

"Christ... You know, I find it very hard to answer your questions when you do that." He pulled back and grabbed my wrist, putting a stop to my intimate caress. "I have things to take care of before my class, you little minx. I have a stack of essays waiting to be read over, and I'm kind of running out of time."

"Do it later."

He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss on my jaw. "You know, I was supposed to take care of that yesterday, but you distracted me."

"I did?" I asked innocently, blinking slowly. "How?"

"How? Well, since you're asking..." He trailed off and withdrew his hand from under my camisole, and I almost growled at the loss of contact. But then, his skilled fingers slipped under the elastic band of my underwear, sliding gently along my wet folds. My eyes slammed shut, and I threw my head to the side.

"Carlisle..." His name came out as a needy sigh. I trembled under his warm touch, biting my lip, as his finger found the swollen nub at the apex of my thighs. He circled it gently, barely grazing it, and the lightness of his touch made the sensation even more intense. "I don't...get it," I managed to pant out. "Why would you say that I – _oh_ – that I distracted you yesterday? I haven't done...anything...wrong. Maybe you're just..." My eyes rolled back in my head, as he stroked the small bundle of nerves more firmly. "Maybe...you're just sensitive to...to influences of the...environment."

"Oh?" He kissed the sensitive spot beneath my ear, before sucking my earlobe into his mouth. "So, it's me who's to blame here? I'm the weak one who can't get enough of touching this beautiful, tight body of yours?" His finger abandoned the sensitive nub and dipped lower, lightly tracing over my entrance. My thighs began to tremble. I actually felt like I was throbbing all over.

"That's right," I managed to answer. "You're just...insatiable. I'm the normal one. Actually, I think... _oh, my god_...I think your presence is turning me into an asexual."

I heard him chuckle darkly. "Is that so? Well, in that case..." His skilled touch left my center, and I tore my eyes open as he withdrew his hand. He just smiled at me amiably, as he got up from the edge of the bed, quickly buckling his belt I'd managed to undo before he had stopped me.

I sat up and stared at him as he grabbed his keys from the dresser and flashed me another brilliant smile.

"Hey!" I grumbled. "That's just mean. No, that's worse than mean. That's _cruel_. Why would you want to be _cruel_?"

"I'm not being cruel," he answered, his voice innocent and smooth. "But I am going to be late if I don't leave now. Like I tried to explain to you a moment ago, you always keep distracting me and make me forget things."

"But you can't leave me like _this._ "

"Yes, I can. This way, I can make sure I'm all you can think about for the next couple of hours."

"I already think about you all the time." It seemed the pleasure hormones were running my lips, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out anything else. Carlisle just smiled and watched me for a while. I couldn't quite read the look in his eyes.

"If that's so," he murmured softly, "then I'm very pleased."

 _Okay. What does that mean?_

After collecting his wallet and phone from the dresser, he made his way to the door. Before leaving, he turned to me one more time, still smiling innocently. "I'll see you in the evening, Bella."

"And when you do, I'll pay you back for this. I _guarantee_ you that."

He chuckled in a low tone. "I can't wait."

I rolled my eyes at his expression and slumped against the pillows as he left. I was still tingling all over, and my heart was pounding in my chest after his ministrations. I was more than tempted to finish what he'd started all by myself, but it wouldn't have been the same. I wanted it to be _his_ hands touching my skin, _his_ voice moaning my name, _his_ body driving me towards release...

Okay. I definitely needed a cold shower.

Keeping myself distracted as the day dragged on was easier said than done. I took care of some things I'd been neglecting for the past week; I paid the bills, cleaned the apartment and did the laundry, managing to get everything done by the time I had to leave for my shift at the café. But as the hours passed, something kept bugging me, like I'd forgotten something important. It took me a while to realize what it was.

The dream. Usually, I forgot my dreams as soon as I woke up, but there had been something strange about my most recent dream. I could still recall some of the details; I remembered my hands had been full of wedding rings, and then, Carlisle had stepped into the room. I remembered how upset I'd felt, as I had demanded why he hadn't told me about something, and I remembered the tortured, stricken look on his face.

I didn't know why the dream kept bugging me so much. I considered mentioning it to Carlisle later, but I knew he'd probably want to know more about it if I brought it up. And I obviously didn't want to tell him I'd dreamed about having my hands full of wedding rings.

There was something else about the dream that bothered me as well, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn't remember what it was. I had a feeling it was something important, and that obviously frustrated me even more. I kept racking my brain, trying to recall more details, but my efforts were in vain.

By the time my shift was over, and I had gotten into my truck, I'd pretty much forgotten about the whole thing. Even though it was getting late, I stopped by my apartment to have a quick bite to eat. I also picked up some clothes, and after that, I drove the short distance to Carlisle's house.

As I turned onto his street and neared his house, I noticed there was a fancy silver BMW parked behind Carlisle's car. I considered it for a moment, wondering what to do. This morning, Carlisle hadn't said anything about expecting guests. Maybe someone had dropped by unannounced.

As soon as I'd finished the thought, something occurred to me. What if it was... _her?_

A little over two weeks had passed, since I'd seen Carlisle in front of the diner with that woman. Aside from our discussion the following morning, neither of us had brought it up again. There had been times during the past days when I was burning with curiosity, and I'd just wanted to ask more about her, wanting to know if he'd been married to her or not. I didn't know why it kept bothering me so much. I guess it just would have been nice to get an answer to at least one simple question. Maybe if the ring in his bedside drawer received an explanation, I'd stop having those restless dreams.

I glanced toward the house again, wondering what to do. If it was her car that was in Carlisle's driveway...if she was visiting him...was I ready to face her just yet? And was Carlisle even willing to introduce me to her? And even if he was, a large part of me found the whole idea kind of strange and awkward.

I considered driving past his house and coming back later – maybe she wasn't planning on staying long. But then, I realized I couldn't exactly do that without losing face – most likely, they'd already heard the loud rumble of my truck. You had to be deaf not to hear it, after all. I didn't want Carlisle – or _her_ – to think I was afraid of her or something. And besides, I had every right to be here. Carlisle was expecting me. He would have called to inform me of a change of plans if something had come up and to let me know he didn't want me to come over.

After parking the truck in front of his house, I gave myself a quiet pep talk. Then, I grabbed my bag and got out, taking a few deep breaths, as I walked across the illuminated yard to the front door. I was pleased when my hand didn't tremble, as I reached out to ring the doorbell.

I felt like my heart was in my throat as I heard quiet steps on the other side, and then the door opened to reveal a tall and slender man with artfully swept-back bronze hair. The man was very handsome; I estimated he was maybe at least ten years older than me, but something about his face was very youthful, very...boyish. There was something very familiar about him, about his high cheekbones, about the shape of his eyes and mouth.

He looked at me slowly from head to toe, and a barely visible grin pulled at his lips. It was the smallest smile I'd ever seen. I suddenly had a feeling he was laughing at me on the inside.

I was taken aback, obviously. "Uh...hi. Is Carlisle here?"

He blinked slowly; I noticed his eyes were very green. Insanely green. Actually, I'd never seen anyone with eyes so green. "Excuse me?" he asked. His voice was confused, but incredibly pleasant and smooth. "Carlisle who?"

It was my turn to blink in confusion. "Uh...Carlisle Cullen?"

The man frowned. "I'm sorry. You must be mistaken. No one with that name lives here."

I stared at the man. Then, I turned to look behind me slowly, my eyes finding the familiar black SUV parked in front of the house. This indeed was Carlisle's house. I was relived; for a moment, I thought I'd knocked on the wrong door. That would have been embarrassing. But then, confusion pushed its way into my mind again, and I turned back to face the bronze-haired man.

He was still looking at me, a confused frown on his face. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Maybe you got the address wrong? I don't know what else to say. No Carlisle Cullen lives here."

I didn't know why, but I was getting kind of irritated; that sometimes happened when I was very confused. "Well, he lived here last week," I told the man, trying to keep my tone polite. I didn't know if I was successful or not.

He shook his head, looking like he didn't know what to tell me. "I'm very sorry. I wish I could explain it otherwise, but I really think you've got the wrong house. I don't know any Carlisle Cullen. Maybe you should try next door?"

"Edward! I told you not to be an ass!"

Carlisle's familiar voice sounded from somewhere in the house, and after a second, I heard hurried footsteps. Relief washed over me, as Carlisle appeared in the doorway, gently but firmly nudging the bronze-haired man – Edward was his name, I now assumed – out of the way. "Bella, please, ignore him and come in." He shot the man a sharp look and took my hand, pulling me inside.

Carlisle's strange guest closed the door behind me, now flashing me a wide smile and laughing softly. I gave Carlisle a look, still wondering what the hell was going on.

"I'm sorry about that," Carlisle sighed, giving a disapproving glance at the grinning man. "Like I said, Bella, please, do your best to ignore him. I do. That's how I've survived so long."

"So, _this_ is Bella," the man said, once again looking at me from head to toe. The mischievous grin on his lips... Where had I seen that grin before?

"Edward, please," Carlisle sighed.

"What, you're not gonna introduce us? How rude of you."

Carlisle wrapped an arm around my shoulders, once again sighing quietly. "Bella, meet my brother, Edward Cullen. Edward, this is Isabella Swan."

Edward reached out to shake my hand. "Pleasure to meet you, _Isabella_."

"Edward," Carlisle said again, a note of warning in his tone.

"What? I'm just trying to be friendly," Edward pretended to be offended.

"Like you were trying to be friendly to her a minute ago? By not even letting her into the house? Didn't I manage to teach you _any_ manners when we were growing up?"

"I just wanted to see what happens when she's faced with an unexpected situation, and I also needed to know if she gets confused easily. If she's going to have any chances with _you_ , she'll need survival skills. You pass, by the way," Edward winked at me, and I raised my eyebrows, still not sure what to make of him. What to make of this whole situation.

First of all, Carlisle had a brother? Needless to say, he'd never mentioned that before.

Carlisle ran a weary hand over his face. "You know, Edward, I told you that if you harass Bella, I'll tell Irina. And you know me. I'll make good on that threat."

"Hey! Don't drag my wife into this."

"Well, it's up to you whether I have to involve her or not. So, be mature and behave yourself. I don't understand how you haven't gotten yourself fired yet. In all honesty, one would expect better behaviour from a lawyer. I'm kind of wondering why people aren't suing _you_ all the time."

"Hey, I'm good at what I do. But I like to keep my work and personal life separate. And the reason why I haven't been fired is because," Edward gave a laugh, "well, I'm not obviously like _this_ at work. I know how to stay serious when I have to. But you see, this is where _you_ come in. I get to unleash my inappropriate, pent-up energy on you, whenever I need to vent." He gave me a glance, flashing me another brilliant grin. "And now on you as well, of course. So, Bella, how long have you been my brother's girlfriend?"

His voice was a little taunting, and he flicked Carlisle a teasing glance. Something told me he'd asked that just out of spite, and I figured there had been a conversation about me before I'd arrived.

Carlisle glanced at the watch around his wrist. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Nope. You're the old one here. I think this is nice, by the way. You and her." Edward smiled at me and leaned forward slightly, winking at me again and whispering loudly, "He needs someone to keep him young."

"Edward–" Carlisle's words were cut off, as his phone began to ring. He dug it from his pocket and checked the screen, and then he smiled sweetly and flashed the phone at Edward. "And that's Irina. You were supposed to be home at nine."

"Whoops. Hey, wait – why is she calling you?"

"Because your phone is at your house, or in your office, or in your car, or God knows where. _That's_ why she's calling me, Edward. Because she can actually _reach_ me." Carlisle touched the screen and held the phone to his ear, answering it. "He's on his way," he sighed, shooting Edward a look. "I know. Don't worry about it. Goodnight." He lowered the phone and raised an eyebrow at Edward.

Edward held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'm going. Have a pleasant night, lovebirds. I'll see you around, Bella." After blowing me a kiss, he opened the door and slipped out. I glanced out the small window by the door and watched him as walked – no, skipped – toward the silver BMW.

"See ya," I murmured. Then, I turned to look at Carlisle. "You know, he's kind of funny, but also irritating. I'm not sure yet if I like him or not. No offense."

He chuckled and shook his head. "None taken. That's pretty much how everyone feels about him. Most of the time, I'm kind of torn between wanting to lock him in an empty white padded room and flushing his head in the toilet. Both choices seem very tempting, and I find it too hard to decide which to pick."

I laughed softly, giving him a curious look. "You never told me you had a brother."

"I suppose I didn't. But I kind of hope you understand _why_ I didn't, after witnessing his lovely behaviour just now," he chuckled again, smiling.

I could see that, even though his brother clearly annoyed him, he also cared about him a lot. "I assume he's a younger brother?" I asked.

"What gave you that idea?" he asked in a dry manner.

I grinned. "Your bickering, for one. How much younger is he?"

"Not much. Just two years, believe it or not." He shook his head in a disapproving manner, but after a moment, he gave me a soft smile. "To be fair, he's not always like that. He has a deep side to him as well," he admitted. "And he's normally very good with people."

I smiled. "Does he live in Seattle?"

Carlisle nodded. "On the other side of the city, though. He's married, like you probably gathered from our conversation."

"That's nice. Do they have children?"

Something shifted in his eyes. "Two. A boy and...a little girl." He reached for the bag in my hand. "Here, let me take that."

"Thanks." I gave him the bag and shrugged off my coat, and Carlisle reached out to take that as well, hanging it in the closet.

"How old are they?" I asked Carlisle. "Edward's children?"

"Seth is nine. Elizabeth turns five in a few weeks."

"Do you see them often?"

"Every now and then." Carlisle smiled softly; his eyes were warm, full of affection. It was easy to see he cared about Edward's children very much. "Seth looks a lot like Edward, but he has Irina's blonde hair."

"And Elizabeth?"

He gave a soft chuckle. "She has a lot of Edward in her, but Irina...she always says she looks like me. It's the eye color, I think."

"She has your eyes?"

He nodded, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and beginning to lead me along the hallway. He asked me if I was hungry, and I told him I'd had a quick snack, when I'd picked up some clothes from my apartment.

"How was your shift?" he asked conversationally as we moved to the living room. He left my bag on one of the chairs and took my hand, pulling me toward the couch. "Busy?"

"Quieter than normal, actually," I answered, as we sat down. "Rosalie stopped by with Emmett, though."

"Oh? How's engaged life treating them?"

I smiled. "Fine, I guess. They still haven't talked much about the wedding. Rosalie's crazy busy with the salon, and Emmett's swamped with his own job. I don't think they're in a terrible hurry to get married. All that matters to them is that it'll happen one day."

Carlisle wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer to his side. I felt the tip of his nose graze my temple. He drew in a cautious breath, hesitating. "What about you?" he asked quietly. "Do you ever dream of those things? A marriage? Having a family?"

His question surprised me a little, making me feel a bit off-balance. "You asked me something similar once," I murmured, "Soon after we'd met."

"I know. And you answered that you've lately felt a little lost...and that you're not exactly sure what you want out of life."

I pulled back slightly, so I could see his face, giving him a long look.

"What?" he asked, giving a soft laugh.

I shook my head. "Nothing. It's just...I said that _weeks_ ago, and I suppose I didn't expect you to remember something like that. You really listen to the things I say, don't you?"

He chuckled. "I do try. Isn't that what some women complain about? That men don't listen to what they have to say?"

"Yeah, I guess. Something like that." I leaned my head against his shoulder. "Why are you asking about this again? About my possible future dreams?"

He was silent for a beat. "I don't know, exactly. I guess I was just...curious."

"Well, when it comes marriage, I used to have this really black-and-white attitude towards it. I was a child of divorce, so that probably had an impact on it. When I was a teenager, I thought marriage in general had little meaning. I thought it was just a piece of paper, this very fragile thing, that could be torn apart at any time. Even though I had a good childhood, and even though I had both parents in my life, despite the fact that they weren't together, those thoughts stayed with me for a long time."

"Then, what changed? If you used to think marriage has little meaning, what happened to make you change your mind about it?"

I shrugged. "I just began to view it differently, I guess. I came to realize how important it was to some people, and I acknowledged that there has to be a reason for it. And then, my mom remarried when I was in high school, and I saw how happy it made her." I paused, breathing in deeply and closing my eyes. "Maybe marriage _is_ just a piece of paper to some people. Maybe it _is_ a fragile thing that can be torn apart at any moment, but maybe it's worth the risk as well."

"Maybe." Carlisle's voice pensive. "Many things in this world, especially the most important ones, are very fragile. You can't really escape that fact. Maybe it's just something one must accept."

"How about you, then?" I asked quietly. "I mean, I know what your stance towards relationships is. You once told me you feel like you have your hands full with yourself, that things like having a family are something you haven't been able to consider for years. I know that's why you're not...capable...of considering anything long-term. But what do you think about these things in general? If things were different with you, what would you want?" I held my breath, wondering if I was crossing some invisible line. "Under different circumstances, in another life...what would you want? What would you dream about?"

His arm tightened around me, and he was silent for so long I was almost sure he wouldn't answer. But then, he spoke. His voice was quiet and reflective and...just very sad.

"Well, I consider myself an old-fashioned, traditional man. I think...I think marriage and stability are very important, meaningful things, things one shouldn't take for granted. And in another life...in another reality, where I'm not a prisoner of my own mind and fears...the thought of getting to share my life with someone is something I'd value more than anything. I'd hold it in the highest regard."

I wanted to take his hand; he sounded so...desolate. But I was worried a physical touch would make him withdraw into himself, that he'd stop speaking. Sometimes, I felt as if he was like a wounded animal, constantly ready to flee.

"But not in this life?" I asked quietly.

I more felt than saw him shake his head; his chin touched my temple, and then, it settled on top of my head. "No, Bella. Not in this life."

"Then, what is it you fear the most?" I asked carefully. He tensed, barely noticeably, and that was when I took the risk and clasped his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to go into details," I murmured. "You don't have to answer at all if you don't feel like it. I don't mean to be...well, nosy."

"It's alright," he answered, sighing. "And it's not that you don't deserve answers. You do, Bella. You've been more patient with me than I expected." I could feel his warm breath in my hair, as he sighed again, very quietly. His arm tightened around me again. "I fear...I fear failure. I fear I'll...that I'll end up caring too much, that I'll receive something significant…that I'll be given a precious gift, something important and life-changing...and I fear I'll begin to take its existence for granted. I fear that, once again, I'll be too late, that I'll fail, that I'm not...capable enough...and I'll lose everything because of that."

There was a long moment of silence after he stopped talking. I wanted to say something to him, wanted to ask him why he felt as though he had failed at something. And what did he mean, when he said he feared he would be too late? That he wasn't capable enough? I remembered the broken look in his eyes, when he'd gazed at the caramel-haired woman in front of the diner all those days ago. When I thought about all those things he'd said about failure, about not being capable enough...was he talking about her?

"You can't imagine facing those fears?" I asked quietly. "You don't think facing them is worth the risk?"

"No...not exactly. Maybe…maybe it _is_ worth the risk. But is it worth the pain? I'm not ready to believe it is." I felt him shift, and he pulled back slightly to look at me. He lifted a hand and stroked my cheek. "I hope...I hope you never have to think these thoughts. I hope you never have to feel what I feel. That's…that's one reason why I find your company so soothing. Bella, you're so whole and unbroken, so free of any sadness."

He traced the long scar on the inside of my arm with his thumb, the touch very light and tender. "I know you've had your own heartaches and trials. But you haven't let them bring you down. You haven't let the world and its sorrows corrupt you. You've held your head above the water, despite the things that have happened to you. You're like this empty, white canvas, pure and clean and comforting...and I find it all very soothing. I hope you stay this way. I hope nothing ever shadows your spirit and makes your life darker. I hope nothing ever taints that canvas."

I lifted my hand and traced my thumb over his bottom lip. "Sometimes, those things aren't in our hands."

He gave me a sad smile. "I know."

"And I know you know. I know you know it better than I do." I shifted and leaned closer to him, brushing my nose with his. "So, you find my company soothing?"

"Yes."

"Just like you find night walks soothing?"

He hesitated. "Not exactly. My night walks...they're always more or less lonely. How can they not be? After all, the world is sleeping, and you're not." He pressed a soft kiss on my lips. "You're not like a lonely night walk, Bella. Quite the opposite. You're like the sunrise each morning. Reliable and reassuring. You bring warmth with you wherever you go, and somehow, you make it easier for me to breathe."

That was probably the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me. I just smiled and leaned closer to kiss him softly. "I make you feel better, then? Warmer?"

His nose nuzzled mine. "Yes. You do."

"Okay. I'm glad." I kissed him again, inching closer to him. "How much better?" I murmured against his lips. "How much warmer?"

I felt him smile, and then his hands were on my hips, trying to pull me even closer. It was kind of hard because of my position, so I lifted my legs onto the couch, turning to face him and straddling him. Carlisle took my hand and pressed it against his neck; I could feel the rapid beat of his pulse against my palm.

"Does that answer your question?" he asked, his eyes taking on a darker shade of blue. I'd always thought blue was a cool color, but he proved that belief wrong. There was just smoldering heat in his eyes, as he looked back at me.

I leaned in to kiss him again, tenderly and slowly. His hold on my hips tightened, and I pressed myself against him, giving him the connection I knew he craved. The connection we both craved. A quiet, soft moan welled up in his throat, as I moved down to kiss his neck.

My fingers went to work on his tie and the buttons of his shirt. Impatiently, I pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. Needing more room for my hands, I slid onto the floor in front of him, and as my hands found the buckle of his belt, Carlisle's breathing was forcibly slow and calm, like his lungs wanted to gasp for air, but his mind wanted to stay in control.

I gave him a sly smile, as I unbuckled his belt and unzipped the fly of his pants. There was no trace of a smile on his lips; his eyes were intent on me, watching my every movement carefully, as if that alone gave him great pleasure. He lifted his hips, as I pulled his pants and socks off, leaving his boxers on. Then, I got up slowly, releasing my hair from its ponytail and running my fingers through it.

Carlisle's eyes seemed to turn another shade darker.

I kept a mask of calm on my face, but on the inside, I was smirking widely; even those small reactions made shivers run up my spine and delicious warmth gather in the pit of my stomach. Very aware of his heated gaze, I grabbed the hem of my sweater and slowly lifted it up and over my head. When I did that, he closed his eyes momentarily and bit his bottom lip, but it wasn't long before he opened his eyes again; it was as if he couldn't bear to look away from me too long.

Once again, it took all I had not to grin, especially when I thought about what I was going to do next. Knowing the best was yet to come, I dropped the sweater and reached behind me to undo the clasp of my bra. Letting the straps fall down my arms, I held Carlisle's gaze, a little surprised his eyes were still holding mine, instead of stealing glances at my bare chest. The man could focus; I had to give him credit for that.

Well, that was about to change.

I let my bra fall to the floor, nudging it aside with my foot. Carlisle's breathing was coming heavily now, and as I took one step closer, then another one, his hands were reaching for me. As soon as I was close enough, he gripped my hips and pulled me down onto his lap. He slipped his hands into the back pockets of my jeans, pulling me against him. A strangled sigh left my chest, as his mouth found the valley between my breasts and soon worked its way to tease my nipples. As his tongue swirled around one hardened peak, sending white-hot heat all the way to my toes, I had to force myself to focus, reminding myself there was something I needed to do.

It was payback time.

Diving my fingers into his golden hair, I gently yanked his head back, so I could kiss him deeper. As my lips assaulted his, I shifted to give myself more room and slid my other hand down his body. I trailed my fingers down his sculpted chest and past his abs, until I ran out of bare skin.

A quiet groan rumbled from his chest, as I slipped my hand under the elastic band of his boxers and gently wrapped my fingers around his arousal. I stroked the length of him slowly but firmly, and he moaned into my mouth, his hands tightening on my hips. As I felt him throb against my palm, I gave him a gentle squeeze.

"Bella..." His mouth tore away from my lips, his forehead pressing against mine. I felt his heavy and rapid breaths on my face, and encouraged by his reaction, I moved my hand up his hardness, making a loose fist and stroking the swollen head.

Carlisle's head dropped onto my shoulder. Quiet moans and grunts began to pour from his lips, some of them sounding something like my name. I could feel the tension growing in his body, as I continued my tender exploration. As I felt a bead of moisture appear at the tip, I ran my thumb across it. He hissed loudly and bucked into my hand. The weight of his head disappeared from my shoulder, and then he claimed my lips with his own. His kiss was urgent and demanding, fraught with desperation. His fingers began to work on my jeans, and I was pleased to notice his movements were uncoordinated and shaky. I stroked him more firmly, effectively making him lose focus. As he tried to work down the zipper of my jeans, I grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"God, Bella...please...let me touch you," Carlisle moaned against my mouth. "I _need_ to touch you...let me feel you..."

"No," I answered, giving his hard length another firm pull. Something between a sigh and a moan left his lips, but I couldn't tell if it was a reaction to my caress or my refusal to let him touch me.

"Why not? Please, Bella...you're killing me..."

"Sorry," I whispered, nibbling at his earlobe. "I'm just trying to be fair here. Just giving you what you deserve." After paying some more gentle attention to the sensitive head of his arousal, I pulled my hand away. It was the first time ever I heard him whimper, and I smiled sweetly at him, pushing away from his tension-filled body and sliding onto the floor in front of him again. I pulled down the elastic of his boxers to expose him, running my fingers down his sides and stomach, before leaning closer and tasting him. He tensed and sucked in a sharp breath; it seemed as if he was doing all he could to keep his hips still.

"Bella..." His fingers went into my hair, gently combing through it. The touch was shaky; I could feel the tremble of his fingers against my scalp, as I added more pressure, swirling my tongue around the swollen head. He hissed loudly, and his hips made a small, involuntary thrust as a response. Humming quietly, I glanced up at him, my tongue still teasing the sensitive ridge beneath the tip of his arousal. Carlisle's eyes were squeezed closed, and his mouth was slightly open. His eyebrows were pulled together, as if he was in agony. The way he began to tremble, and the way his chest began to heave, told me it was very sweet agony.

When my hand joined my mouth, he began to lose the battle to keep himself still.

"Bella," he moaned. "Bella...my God, you're killing me...I can't hold..." He drew in a sharp breath, as I suckled him more firmly, catching the bead of fluid gathering at the tip with my tongue. His breath rushed out of his mouth in a desperate moan, and then I released him, biting my lip to keep from grinning, as I saw how breathlessly close he was. Carlisle opened his eyes, as I reached out to pull the elastic band of his boxers back up, covering him.

I stood up slowly. Then, I took two steps back and fanned my hair over my breasts, hiding them from his sight.

"Well," I said offhandedly, "I think I'm going to bed now. It's getting late, and I had a really long day. I'm very, _very_ tired."

Carlisle stared at me incredulously. His expression was priceless.

I shrugged. "Blame yourself. Did you think I forgot what you did this morning? How you left me feeling frustrated and unsatisfied? I had to take a cold shower, you know, to keep myself from finishing what you started." I gave him another innocent smile, but otherwise, I managed to compose my expression. "Goodnight, Carlisle."

I turned around, making sure to swing my hips a little more than usual, as I walked toward the living room door. When I heard him get up from the couch and follow me, I broke into sprint.

I half-laughed, half-shrieked, as I ran through the house, wondering if I could manage to make it to the bedroom before he caught up with me – or before I stumbled. I heard his soft chuckles behind me a moment before a pair of strong arms wrapped around me, halting my escape.

Then, the world suddenly flipped upside down, and a loud cry left my lips, as I realized Carlisle had lifted me over his shoulder. Ignoring my shrieks and complaints, he adjusted my position and wrapped his arm behind my knees, before starting to walk towards the bedroom.

"Hey! Put me down! You're – making – me – _dizzy!"_ I tried to sound indignant, but my words came out all breathless instead. I had a very nice view of his boxer-covered butt, so that probably had an effect on it.

He gave a soft, taunting laugh. "Oh? Is that so? That's what you get for running away from me like that."

"I promised you a payback this morning. You should've seen that coming." I gave his behind a gentle slap.

"And you should've seen it coming that you can't escape me that easily. You don't run that fast, you know."

"Hey! Your expensive floors are all shiny and slippery!"

He just laughed, and momentarily, I felt very unsteady, as the world righted itself again. I expected my feet to touch the floor, as Carlisle loosened his hold around me, but instead, I was gently tossed onto the bed. He gave me no time to recover from the sudden change of position, and by the time there was a normal amount of blood in my brain again, he had crawled over me, grabbing my wrists and pinning them to the bed.

"Now, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft, "where were we?"

He somehow managed to hold my both wrists with one hand, while the other trailed down my body, palming my breasts in a sensual manner. I gasped, as he leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. He bit it gently, not hard enough to cause pain, but firmly enough to make my skin rise with goosebumps and my back arch. He gave my other breast the same, tender attention, and by the time he finished, my chest was heaving, and my head was spinning, like I'd downed a few glasses of expensive wine.

Carlisle released my wrists, and his hands were instantly working on my jeans, dragging them off, along with my panties. As he rolled off my socks and grabbed my ankles, I began to see stars. He had barely touched me, and I was having visual disturbances, for God's sake.

I felt him place a soft kiss on both of my knees, and then he crawled up my body, his warm hands moving over my naked skin like it was his intention to touch every inch of me. He caught my lips with his in a hard kiss, and meanwhile, his other hand trailed over my body, exploring, searching. He nudged my legs apart with his knees and dragged his fingertips up my inner thigh, breaking away from my lips.

"Now," he breathed, his voice deep and soft, "What did you say a moment ago? Something about this morning? You had to take a cold shower?"

I tried to remember how to nod, as his searching fingers inched upwards. "Uh huh."

"Because...?"

I struggled to form words. "Because I couldn't stand it," I managed to pant out. "I couldn't stand that you weren't there. I couldn't stop thinking about you...about what you were doing to me..."

His lips brushed mine again, this time very lightly. His fingers moved upwards again, and just as they were about to reach the tender flesh at the apex of my thighs, he pulled his hand away.

I groaned and threw my head to the side, feeling like I could die right there. I more felt than heard him chuckle; his nose nuzzled mine, his lips pressing yet another gentle kiss on my mouth.

"And what was I doing to you, hmm?" he whispered. "Tell me, Bella...what did you want me to do? What _do_ you want me to do?"

"Touch me," I moaned. "I want you touch me, Carlisle."

"Like this?" White lights exploded behind my eyelids, as his fingers stroked my folds, teasing me, fanning the fire that was quickly roaring out of control.

"Yes," I moaned, the word coming out as a trembling breath. "Yes, just like that..." I inhaled sharply, as he found the bundle of nerves at the top of my heat and gave it a teasing stroke with his finger. He was using just the right amount of pressure – I couldn't understand how the hell he did that, how the hell he knew just how to touch me. I cried out and shuddered, as he slowly circled the sensitive bud, and as he traced his finger down my center, my hips gave an involuntary buck. He repeated the process, keeping his touch light and gentle, and soon, I was gasping for air and clutching the bed covers, feeling like I could snap any moment.

I struggled to hold on to what was left of my concentration and sanity, and I forced myself to release my death grip on the bed covers. My hands went to Carlisle's hips, grasping the band of his boxers. I tugged them down impatiently, dizzy with pleasure and impatience, as he kicked them off, but as I reached out a hand to touch him, he stopped me, like I'd stopped him before.

"No." He covered my hand with his and pulled it away from his body, while his other hand still continued to tease my heated flesh. His lips hovered over mine, his warm, quickened breath fanning across them. "I want to feel you, Bella," he whispered. "I want to feel you come against my hand."

I slammed my eyes closed. His dirty words alone nearly sent me over the edge, and as his skilled fingers danced across my distended nub again, every muscle in my body went taught. The heat that was burning in the pit of my stomach grew, the flames beating higher and hotter.

"Carlisle...so close," I heard myself moan. My toes curled, and my head kept thrashing from side to side, until Carlisle stilled my movements by capturing my lips with his.

"Yeah?" he murmured against my lips. "Are you close, Bella? Are you this wet for me? Is this all for me?" His finger kept circling my sensitive bud, and that did it. The tight knot in my stomach unraveled instantly, sending sparks of pleasure and bliss through my body.

"Carlisle...right there... _yes!"_

His intimate caress never ceased, as my body came undone. I didn't realize my hands had abandoned the bed covers, and I was now digging my fingers into his back, even in my incoherent state, wanting him closer. As I slowly came down from my high, he filled my wordless wish. He settled over me and aligned himself, cupping the back of my head with his other hand, as he slowly pushed himself inside me. His mouth dropped open, his eyes squeezing closed from the sensation, and there was a long moment when he just held me and stayed completely still, not moving at all. It made me wonder if he felt like I did. Did he, too, feel like there was nothing missing, like everything he needed was right here?

After a while, he opened his eyes, reaching up with his free hand to smooth a sweaty tendril of hair away from my face. I wrapped my arms around him, and then he kissed me, slowly and deeply, forcing my lips open with his tongue, as he began to rock his hips, building up a steady and sensual rhythm.

When my eyes wanted to slip closed, he pulled away from my mouth and asked me to open them – I'd noticed he always did that. It was like seeing my eyes during these moments was as important to him as sense of touch.

"I want to see you," he told me, his voice breathless and low. "I _need_ to see you, sweetheart."

He always did that, too – called me sweetheart. Using that endearment only during passionate moments like this made it somehow more intimate. I briefly wondered if he even noticed it when he called me that. There was something spontaneous about the way the word fell from his lips. It was as involuntary as the trembling of his body, as uncontrolled as the flood of moans leaving his chest.

I embraced it all. I opened my eyes and stared into his, and when he called me sweetheart, I took it as a reaction to all those sensations that were rushing through him and threatening to sweep him away. I had no way to verbally encapsulate my feelings, no way to epitomize the waves of sensation rushing through me; I had no endearment for him, except for the way I said his name.

"Carlisle," I sighed, and it was everything I needed to say, everything I needed to express. His name was the only thing I knew, the only thing I could hold on to, as the building ball of heat inside me began to become too much and threatened to burst into pieces. I buried my face into his neck, but he twined his fingers into my hair and gently pulled my head back to gaze at my face.

"That's it, sweetheart," he gasped, his movements becoming unsteady and shaky. "Come with me, Bella. I want to feel you come around me." And then, his lips were assaulting mine with intense need, and the pumping of his hips became uncoordinated and urgent. I cried out into his mouth, as bliss engulfed me, and I pushed my hips against his, as his body tensed up and quivered. I felt him throb inside me, as he let go, his teeth scraping my bottom lip nearly painfully, a moment before he called out my name in a hoarse cry. I thought I tasted blood, but I was so caught up in my own release I barely noticed.

We fell into and against each other, like stars collapsing under their own gravity; first, there was light, blinding in its brightness, burning like a beacon in the dark. That light seemed to outshine everything in our small galaxy, radiating more energy and heat than the sun in its entire lifetime. And after that, there was just silence; after an explosion like that, silence almost always followed. It was a silence full of breathing, full of the sound of two racing hearts.

I clung to him, like the moon clings to its orbit, and he trapped me with his body, like the sun traps our planet in its gravitational field. I briefly thought that, maybe we were a supernova about to happen…that, maybe we were just two stars about to die...that, maybe there would be nothing left of us after we'd burned out. But I didn't care.

Because if he had to fall from the sky, it only made sense that I'd fall with him.

* * *

 _ **A/N: I don't quite know why Edward turned out the way he did. I hadn't planned on making him such a comedian, but that's how he ended up in this story. Maybe I got tired of seeing him so serious and brooding all the time in the original saga, and my muse wanted to turn his personality upside down.**_

 _ **Thank you for your reviews, I'm always interested to hear what you have to say. I know the pace and mood of this story may frustrate some of you, and I understand. I hope you keep having patience with the characters, and I promise your questions will be answered before long.**_


	17. Whispers

_**"But love was always something heavy for me. Something I had to carry."**_

\- Benjamin Alire Sáenz -

* * *

 **Whispers**

There was a light touch on my bottom lip, making me open my eyes. I ran the tip of my tongue over the small cut; it was a bit sore, but it didn't bother me.

Carlisle touched my lip again with the tip of his finger, the look in his eyes apologetic. "I did that, didn't I?" he asked, giving me an embarrassed smile. "I'm terribly sorry, Bella. I don't usually go around biting people."

I chuckled. "It's okay. You were rather...preoccupied with something. I'm kind of flattered, actually. No one's ever bitten me during...well, you know…"

He gave soft laugh. "Well, maybe I haven't felt the need to bite anyone before." He shifted, adjusting the bedside lamp, so he could inspect my lip more closely. He placed his thumb on my chin, and I cracked my mouth open, waiting patiently as he leaned over me and examined the cut. "Does it hurt?"

I shook my head. "Not really. I'll live. I've had a lot worse, you know. For example, one time a few years ago, I tripped and hit my chin on a table." I turned my head, so he could see the pale line on the underside of my chin. Carlisle hissed in sympathy, tracing a finger gently along the scar.

"That must've hurt," he murmured. "Let me guess; at least seven stitches?"

I chuckled. "Correct."

He gave me a small smile, easing onto his side and facing me. He propped his head up with his hand, seeming lost in thought, as he stared at a spot next to my shoulder. It took a while for me to realize his eyes were studying the long scar on the inside of my right arm. He reached out with his free hand to touch it, tracing a finger along the pale, slightly uneven skin.

"I wonder how many of these you have," he murmured softly, looking like he didn't know if he should be amused or concerned.

"More than I care to count," I told him with a chuckle. "Like I've said before, I've always been very accident-prone. Maybe my mom dropped me too many times when I was a baby, and that's why I'm so uncoordinated."

He gave a soft laugh. "I think it's...endearing. As long as you don't hurt yourself too badly, that is."

I looked away from his blue eyes, not knowing what to think of his words. Needless to say, I'd never thought my clumsiness was a very attractive trait.

Carlisle was still looking at the scar on my arm, his finger continuously caressing the damaged skin. I couldn't read the look on his face, and it wasn't until he asked the next question that I found out what he was thinking about.

"Do you ever think about...him?" he asked, his eyes still on the scar. "What was his name? James?"

I quirked my eyebrows, more than caught off guard by his unexpected question. "Not really. I mean, he sometimes passes through my mind, but other than that...I have no reason to think about him, really. That's how it works, right? Out of sight, out of mind."

Momentarily, he looked like he wanted to disagree with my last sentence, but he caught himself. "Yes. I suppose," he murmured absently.

"Why do you ask?"

He shook his head, giving me a sad smile. "No reason."

I didn't buy that – there was always a reason. But I decided not to push, and instead, I asked a question of my own. "And you?" I asked quietly, propping myself on one elbow and mimicking his position. "Do you often think about...well, her?"

His blue eyes became a little guarded. "You're talking about the friend you saw me with outside the diner?" He waited until I nodded, and then, he was silent for a moment, searching for words. "I do think about her. She's...she's an essential part of my life."

I nodded quickly and avoided his eyes, staring at the sheets between us. Carlisle took my hand, making me lift my gaze again.

"I think about her, like one thinks about a close friend. For instance, I'm sure you think about Rosalie at least once a day and wonder what she's up to. How she's doing in general."

I wondered why he felt the need to clarify that, but a large part of me was glad he had. I nodded again, giving him a small, almost playful smile.

"But Rosalie's not my ex-girlfriend," I pointed out gently, drawing a small chuckle from him. "I suppose what I tried to ask was...well, do you ever...miss her? The life you had with her?"

"I do," he answered slowly, swallowing. "I...value the time I shared with her. We had a lot of good moments."

I drew in a deep breath, almost like I was about to dive into cold water. "What's her name?" I asked quietly.

Carlisle held my gaze; he almost seemed surprised I'd asked that. "Esme."

Esme. At first, I didn't know why the name seemed to ring a bell, but after a while, I remembered that one night I'd spent at Carlisle's house a few weeks ago. When I'd picked up his mail at his request, I'd dropped one of the letters. My eyes had accidentally fallen on the name of the sender. I was pretty sure the first name had been Esme, but I couldn't recall the last name. Bayer? Banner? I wasn't sure.

Not that it mattered. I suddenly found myself thinking about the initials that were carved on the inner surface of the wedding ring I'd found in Carlisle's bedside drawer.

 _E.A.P._

I was sure now that the letter E stood for Esme. I wondered what her middle and maiden names were.

There was a soft touch on my cheek, dragging me away from my thoughts. I gave Carlisle a glance; his blue eyes were watching me closely.

"You zoned out again," he stated, chuckling softly. "You do that a lot."

I shrugged, giving him an embarrassed smile. "I just have a lot in my mind, I guess."

"Like what?"

I shrugged again. "Just...some things."

"Tell me." The gentleness in his voice surprised me. Maybe it was that, but I suddenly found myself responding to his request.

"I…uh...I was thinking about her. Esme," I admitted, watching for his reaction. Something shifted in his eyes, but otherwise, his expression gave nothing away. "It's a beautiful name," I continued, my voice soft.

Carlisle nodded. "It is."

I drew in a slow, deep breath, knowing I was about to walk on thin ice. "You love her very much, don't you?"

His expression had been difficult to read before, but now, he made it even more impossible for me to know what was going on in his head; he looked down at the sheets between us, hiding his eyes from me. "What makes you say that?" His voice was quiet and soft, forcibly composed.

"This." I reached out with my hand and put a finger to his chin, lifting his face towards me again. He met my eyes, and as soon as he did, my gaze fell on his lips. I ran a finger along his mouth, slowly tracing the shape of his lips. "This was one of the very first things I noticed about you, you know. Your smile...it's always so sad. It's like...like even your lips are grieving all the time. All these weeks, I've wondered why. I've wondered what put that sadness there."

I paused, meeting his gaze again. His blue eyes were guarded and cautious, almost like he was worried or even afraid of what I was going to say next.

"When I saw you with her..." I continued, hesitating, "There was this moment when you looked at her, and you smiled...and it was the first time I'd seen you smile like that. Without any sadness. And that's how I knew she must be...important. To you."

There was a long moment when Carlisle didn't speak. He just kept watching me, his eyes looking into mine, and for some reason, a part of me was expecting him to get upset. I felt like I was crossing some invisible line, after all. He didn't like to talk about the past, about what had been before, and this woman clearly fell under that category.

And then, there was the obvious fact that this was none of my business.

He drew in a small breath after a moment, and to my surprise, he didn't seem upset. Only pensive.

"You're right," he murmured. "She is important to me. And like I said, she's an essential part of my life. That never changed, despite the fact that we parted ways several years ago. I appreciate her presence in my life even more so because...well, because her presence was never...self-evident.

"The truth is, I have to be grateful for being able to remain friends, even after our shared life was over. That's something I shouldn't take for granted. It could've easily been different...had it been up to me." He frowned, then, his eyes fixated on a spot in the distance. After a while, he seemed to remember where he was and flicked me a brief glance, shaking his head, as if to get rid of some troubling memory.

I bit my lip, still a little surprised he had talked so willingly about this. I hadn't expected that. "You told me she's married now, right? And that you know her husband?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Did it ever bother you that...well, that she was able to move on and remarry?"

Carlisle began to consider my question, staring at the bed sheets, but then, he looked up at me and observed me very closely, narrowing his eyes. At first, I didn't realize why.

"Remarry?" he asked. "Why would you...phrase it like that?"

Crap. I closed my eyes, realizing I'd slipped. I breathed in deeply and then exhaled slowly, opening my eyes to meet his questioning gaze.

"Okay. Here we go." I licked my lips; my mouth felt suddenly dry. "Remember all those weeks ago, when I was staying over and asked for a pen and paper, because I needed to write something down. Do you remember?"

He nodded slowly, frowning. "Vaguely."

"Well, you said I'd find a writing pad and a pen in the bedside drawer...only you weren't clear on which drawer. I tried to ask you, but you were in the shower, and..."

As I was talking, Carlisle closed his eyes in realization. I fell silent and waited. He didn't seem upset, but he wouldn't meet my eyes, either.

"Look, I swear it wasn't my intention to snoop," I continued softly, hoping he'd believe me. "I found a ring from the drawer, it looked like a wedding ring...and I obviously drew my own conclusions."

He nodded slowly. "When did this happen, again?"

"Soon after we'd begun to see each other. I think it was the morning after the first night I'd spent here, at your house."

Carlisle just watched me for a long while in complete silence. "You've known all this time that I was once married, and you never said anything?" Again, he didn't sound upset. Just slightly confused, maybe.

I shrugged. "You never brought it up, so I didn't see why I should. I had a feeling that, maybe there was a good reason why you never said anything about it. I assumed...well, for a long time, I thought she'd died or something. I thought you were a widower. I saw you come from the cemetery that one day, and I jumped to conclusions." I paused, trying to read his expression. It was hard. "And I also felt very bad about finding the ring in the first place. It was an accident, of course, but I felt guilty, like I'd intruded on your privacy or something. And that wasn't my intention, obviously."

He nodded slowly. "Were you worried that...I'd be upset?"

I shrugged. "I guess. I just...I didn't want to bring up a painful topic. Back then, I still suspected something bad had happened. That someone had died or something."

Carlisle closed his eyes; I saw that something about my words shook him, but I didn't know what. Before I could ask him what I'd said wrong, he shook his head and breathed in deeply, before opening his eyes again.

"I appreciate your discretion," he murmured, "And I believe you, when you say you found the ring by accident."

"Still...I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this sooner. Maybe I should've."

He took my hand and squeezed it. "You have no reason to apologize. I haven't been very forthcoming about things myself, after all. And like you said...since I chose not to mention anything about my ended marriage, why should _you_ be the one to bring it up? It wasn't your responsibility. It was mine." He was silent for a beat, hesitating. "Maybe I should've told you about it right away, at the beginning, but...to be entirely honest, I didn't expect us to...well, I didn't expect that we..."

"That we'd last this long?" I finished for him.

He nodded. "Right."

I didn't know how to feel about his confession. I guess I was glad he was honest about this, but I had to admit, his words were also a little painful to hear. I held his gaze, once again hoping his eyes would reveal his thoughts to me, the thoughts he never spoke aloud.

"You're still here, though," I murmured softly after a while of silence. " _We're_ still here."

He nodded. "Yes. We are."

There was a moment, when he just looked at me for a long time, not saying anything. Then, he reached out to take my hand, lacing our fingers together, his expression pensive.

"You asked if it ever bothered me that Esme was able to move on and remarry," he murmured softly, hesitating. "I suppose...well, it's hard to explain. Seeing her happy was always very important to me. When she met her current husband, I was just very... _relieved_...that she was able to move on."

"You were never jealous?" I asked quietly.

"I was," he admitted. "But not of their relationship, or their happiness. I was only jealous of Esme's ability to move past what happened to...me and her." He shook his head in a mournful manner. "Thousands of times, I wondered why I couldn't be like her. I envied her ability to...to turn a new page, so to speak. To love with an open heart, despite the pain it sometimes causes. To believe that, everything would be alright, someday. To have faith in a better tomorrow." He swallowed hard. "I never had that faith, and I resented everything because of that. But I never resented _her_. I was only very glad and relieved that she didn't end up like...like me."

I watched him closely, studying his face, the shadows under his eyes. "It was very hard for you, wasn't it?" I asked carefully. "That your marriage with her ended."

He avoided my eyes. "Divorces are always hard," he mused. "But often times, the things that lead to them are even harder."

"Like in your case?" I guessed.

He looked at me, then. A familiar, sad smile passed on his lips. "Yes. Like in our case." He shifted, laying his head down onto the pillow. I mimicked his action, and he draped his arm over me, pulling me closer, and for a long moment, we just lay in complete silence.

After a while, Carlisle reached out to touch my face, gently stroking my cheek with the back of his hand.

"You know, Bella," he began, his voice reflective and a little uncertain, "I understand why you hesitated in telling me you'd found the ring. But I want you to know you don't have to feel like...like you can't tell me about things. Maybe I don't have the right to say this, considering how I always clam up about everything, but if there's something you want to tell me, something you want me to know, don't be afraid to come to me if something troubles you. I want you to know there's nothing you can't tell me."

I nodded, swallowing. "Thank you. I'll remember that." His words touched me, and there was a part of me that wanted to open up to him about everything that was going on with me. I wanted him to know how I'd come to feel about him during the past weeks, wanted him to know I cared about him a lot more than I should...but I was afraid. Afraid my words and confessions would cost too much. I wasn't ready to risk it. I wasn't ready for this to end.

 _But will I ever be ready?_

Sighing quietly, I shook the thoughts out of my mind. I noticed Carlisle was watching me closely. Maybe trying to figure out what was going on in my head, just like I was always trying to figure him out. The thought made me chuckle quietly; we really made a complicated pair.

"What?" he asked, wondering what amused me suddenly so much.

I gave him a small smile. "Nothing."

"Something you wanted to ask?"

"A lot of things, actually. But I doubt you'll answer."

His small smile was suddenly very free, very open. Almost playful. "Try me."

It took a while for me to get over my surprise. I bit my lip, thinking how ironic it was that, now that he had offered me the chance to ask something, I was too taken aback to even speak.

"Okay," I said after a while, still uncertain. "Why do you...keep your ring in the bedside drawer?"

He considered my question, frowning slightly. "I don't know. I've always kept it there. When I had to take it off my finger all those years ago...well, I guess I wanted to keep it close to me. I didn't want to forget it. I didn't want to forget…the good things." He hesitated, flicking me a glance, and then he shifted, half sitting up, as he reached over me to the drawer beside the bed. I waited as he fumbled about, and after a short moment, he pulled back and settled against the pillows again. He was holding a familiar-looking ring between his fingers, his blue eyes staring intently at the small, silvery object, like he was seeing it for the first time. After a while, he gave me an uncertain glance, and then he offered the ring to me.

As strange as it was, I was a bit flattered by his gesture. It was like he was offering me a piece of himself, willingly giving me the chance to study it more closely. Most of the time, he was so private and reserved, that a small thing such as this seemed like a big deal now.

I turned onto my back and took the ring, noticing he was watching me carefully. My eyes found the engraving on the inner surface, and I read it again, despite the fact that the letters and numbers had been carved in my mind for these past weeks. _July 15, 1995._ I thought idly that I'd been just short of six years old at the time. If Carlisle had known Esme for over twenty-five years, then it meant they'd possibly met before I was even born. That was a long time to know someone. It was insanely long.

Letting out a slow breath, I gave Carlisle a glance; he was still observing me.

"You know," I began, giving him a small smile, "Charlie still wears his wedding ring, even though it's been over twenty years since my mom left him. So, I can't blame you for keeping this in your bedside drawer. I think it's...natural, that you want to keep it close and see it from time to time." I gave the ring back to him. "How long has it been?" I asked. "Since your divorce?"

He shifted and reached over me again to put the ring back into the drawer. I noticed the photo album with brown leather cover was still in the drawer as well. He placed the ring on top of the album and pushed the drawer closed.

"Nearly thirteen years," he answered with a sigh, as he lay back down. "For some people, it may seem like a short time, but...I feel like it's been an entire lifetime."

"Divorce isn't a quick process. That must've had an effect on it, too."

He nodded, avoiding my eyes. "And then there was the fact that we began to drift apart long before all that. Something...something happened and, uh...we just weren't the same anymore."

I considered asking more about this – after all, he'd been far more open and forthcoming tonight than he ever had been before, more open than I ever could have expected – but the tortured look in his eyes made me stay quiet. I turned onto my side and inched closer to him, resting my head against his chest, and I both felt and heard him sigh quietly, before he wrapped his arm around me, holding me tightly.

"Thank you," I said quietly, tracing my hand over his chest in a weak attempt to relax his taut muscles. "For telling me all this, I mean. I know these things aren't something you like to talk about."

I heard him swallow, his arm tightening around me. His chest rose and fell as he drew in a deep breath and then released it slowly. "Thank you, Bella, for...understanding. I just wish..." His words trailed off into silence, and when I lifted my head from his chest to see his face, he avoided my eyes. He reached out to turn off the bedside light, sending the room into darkness.

I rested my head back on his chest. "What do you wish, Carlisle?" I asked quietly, relying on my other senses, since I could no longer see him; his breathing was a little too slow, and as he caught my other hand and held it in his own, his grip was a little too tight. And when he spoke, his voice...it was a little too calm.

"A lot of things," he whispered. I felt him shift and press a gentle kiss on the top of my head, before he pulled the covers over my shoulders, cocooning me in warmth. I closed my eyes and listened to his breathing, already knowing he'd stay wide awake after I'd drifted off. The thought made me ache, and I dragged my eyes open, suddenly determined to stay conscious if he had no intentions to sleep. He'd stayed up too many nights all alone.

But the sound of his breathing was too soothing, and as the tips of his fingers began to draw idle patterns on my shoulder, my eyes slipped closed of their own accord. Before sleep claimed me, I wondered if he did those things on purpose, if he knew about my silent intentions to stay awake and face the night together with him. If so…I wondered why he wanted me to sleep, when he'd stay awake.

I wondered why he wanted to face the night alone.

* * *

I didn't know what woke me up later that night, but as I slowly left the world of slumber and dreams behind me, I instantly knew it was still too early to get up. I glanced at the illuminated alarm clock on the bedside table; the glowing numbers showed it was just before three in the morning.

I reached out a hand and felt across the bed, not surprised when I discovered Carlisle's side was empty. The sheets were cool; he'd been gone for some time. I wondered if he was taking a walk again. It wouldn't have been the first time I awoke to an empty bed, and it also wouldn't be the first time I'd discover the house was empty as well.

It didn't really bother me, waking up alone. Insomnia wasn't something Carlisle had chosen for himself, after all, and if night walks helped him, I wasn't going to start complaining. But I was a little worried, when I thought about all the things that might happen. I knew this was a quiet and calm neighborhood, but you never knew.

I decided that, since I was awake, I might as well get up and have a drink of water. I turned on the bedside light and slipped out of the warm sheets, collecting my panties from the floor by the bed. After pulling them on, I began to look around for my sweater, but then I remembered that, thanks to my little strip-tease performance last night, it was in the living room. My overnight bag was there as well; I remembered Carlisle had placed it on one of the chairs.

I was so familiar with the house by now that I didn't need to switch on more lights; there was enough light coming from the bedroom. Only when I reached the living room door, did I turn on the standard lamp in the hallway. I was very aware of the fact that the curtains in the living room were open, and I was half-naked – it was probably a good thing it was so late. Or early, more likely. The thought of giving the neighbors a free show didn't sound appealing. I made my way across the room, picking up my sweater from the floor in front of the couch and pulling it on. I noticed Carlisle's pants were gone, but the shirt he'd worn the previous night was still on the couch, right where I'd left it a few hours earlier, as I'd undressed him; I thought that was a bit odd.

After pulling the sweater on, I was about to turn around and make my way back to the hallway, but my eyes fell on the bookshelf on the other side of the room. The framed pictures on one shelf seemed to stare at me, and I responded to their silent call, too curious. I'd been to Carlisle's house so many times, but I'd never gotten the chance to take a closer look around his living room.

I made my way across the room, my eyes idly scanning the books resting on the shelves, but there wasn't enough light to make out the titles. I wondered why Carlisle kept these here and not in his study. But then again, his study was so full of books that maybe he'd run out of space. Shrugging inwardly, I turned my attention to the shelf that had piqued my curiosity in the first place.

Instantly, I recognized two persons. There were three pictures of Edward, both as a child and later as an adult. The third was a wedding portrait; Edward was standing next to a beautiful blonde woman with hazel eyes. This had to be his wife, Irina. Next to the wedding portrait, there was a picture of a boy and a girl. The boy had shockingly green eyes and golden blond hair, and I estimated that he was about seven or eight years old in the picture. He was holding the girl's hand and smiling widely at the camera, and despite the fact that I'd only met Edward once, I could easily see it was his grin on the boy's face; it was mischievous and crooked. The girl in the photo was about three or four years old, the small smile on her face a little shy. There was a lot of Edward in her features; she had the same, unusual shade of bronze to her hair, but her eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue.

I wasn't surprised by the fact that the second person I recognized from the photos was Esme. Even though I'd only seen her once and from a distance, it was impossible to forget her. When I'd seen her two weeks ago, I remembered thinking you only saw women like her in movies. I realized my memory of her hadn't done her beauty justice. She looked very young in the photo – I estimated that she couldn't have been more than twenty. It had clearly been fall, when the photo had been taken. She was standing under a colorful maple tree, smiling widely at the camera, as a gust of wind played with her caramel curls. I wondered idly if Carlisle had been behind the camera, when the photo had been taken.

I couldn't recognize the third person looking at me from one frame. I squinted, suddenly hoping I'd turned on more lights. There was a woman in the picture; she was maybe in her forties. She had long, dark hair, nearly black, or maybe dark brown. I could easily recognize her eyes. They were Carlisle's eyes. Blue like fields full of cornflowers, blue like the ocean at its most enraged. She had to be Carlisle's mother. Ever since he'd told me about her, I'd imagined his mother had been blonde, but I guess not.

I turned away from the shelf, smiling to myself. For some reason, seeing the photos made me now feel closer to Carlisle. I wondered if he'd tell me stories about them if I asked; I had a strong feeling he had numerous tragicomic stories about Edward.

Still feeling a little thirsty, I crossed the living room and made my way to the hallway. I walked to the kitchen with soft steps, running my fingers through my hair and thinking to myself that I'd have to ask Rosalie to trim it soon.

Maybe my brain was still in sleep mode, or maybe I was lost in my thoughts, but I didn't notice the silent, dark figure sitting at the table, until I had opened one of the cupboards to take out a glass for myself. I saw something from the corner of my eye, though, and when I realized I wasn't alone, I jumped so violently I hit my head on the open cupboard door. I hissed and ground my teeth together to stop myself from cursing like a sailor, rubbing the top of my head, as if that would stop the pain. It didn't, obviously.

"Jesus," I muttered, staring at the familiar form sitting at the table. "You scared me. I thought you'd gone outside for a walk."

I heard Carlisle draw in a slow breath; it was like he had become aware of my presence at the same time as I had become aware of his. "I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean to startle you. Did you hurt yourself?"

I forgot the pain in my head instantly. His voice was...off. It was unsteady and thick, like he had a cold or something.

Or...

"What's the matter?" I asked, hoping I could see his face. "Why are you sitting here in the dark?"

He didn't answer. There was enough light coming from the lamp in the hallway that I could see him dash a hand across his face. I heard him draw in a deep breath.

"Carlisle? What's the matter?"

He breathed out slowly, clearing his throat. "Nothing. Go back to bed. I'll join you in a moment."

I crossed the kitchen to him, my thirst forgotten. I put a tentative hand on his shoulder. His bare skin was warm, but a little clammy, like he'd been sweating. Had he had a nightmare again?

Sighing quietly, I stroked his shoulder, noticing his muscles were tense, like a rubber band nearing its snapping point. I wondered what had brought this on. Was it our conversation the previous evening? Had talking about Esme and their divorce been so hard for him that it affected him so much? Was the topic so painful for him that his own mind punished him as soon as he let himself think about those things?

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly and reached out with my other hand to touch his cheek, a little frustrated that I couldn't see his expression. As soon as my hand touched his face, he turned his head away.

"I'm fine, Bella," he answered. He shifted away from me, as if to escape my touch, and my hand slipped from his shoulder as he leaned forward in his chair.

I wanted to understand him, but it hurt me a bit when he dismissed me like that. Why couldn't he see how much it worried me to see him like this? How it made me ache, knowing he couldn't get a break from the things that troubled him? That he was doomed to spend his nights like this?

"You're not fine, Carlisle," I said softly, deciding this had to end. Now. He couldn't keep going like this forever. "Don't tell me you are. I want to help you, but I don't know how–"

"You can't help me." His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it now, something I'd never heard before. "I'm fine, Bella. Just...just go back to bed. Give me a moment. That's all I'm asking."

"But Carlisle–" I reached out to touch his shoulder again.

"I said I'm fine," he cut me off. His voice was quiet, but cool. He got up, rounded the table and walked over to the window across the kitchen. "Just...just leave me be. Please."

I sighed quietly, a little taken off guard by his reaction. I knew pressuring him wasn't the solution now; I knew he had to be tired, or exhausted, more likely. But his cool voice, and the fact that he had moved away from me, like the touch of my hand had burned him...it hurt more than I'd expected. More than I wanted to admit.

I didn't know how to deal with him when he was like this, didn't know how to deal with the hurt his words caused. For a moment, I just looked at his dark figure, feeling like there was a mountain between us instead of just a kitchen table.

I turned around then and made my way out of the kitchen. My head was throbbing where I'd hit it, but I barely noticed. I switched off the lamp in the hallway as I passed it, and when I got to the bedroom, I didn't bother to take off my sweater, as I crawled into bed. Turning off the bedside light, I curled up on my side and buried myself in the covers.

I didn't even realize I was crying, until I realized there was pain; I quickly unclenched my teeth from my bottom lip, wondering if I'd opened the small scrape I'd received the previous night. Breathing slowly through my mouth, I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the hot tears spilling down my face.

I didn't move, as I heard soft, almost soundless steps approaching the bedroom a few moments later, didn't open my eyes, as I felt the bed dip behind me. Something was placed on the bedside table on the other side; maybe a glass. I kept my eyes closed, trying to control my breathing.

The bed jostled slightly, and there was a soft touch on my shoulder. And then, gentle fingers smoothed my hair, and a warm breath touched my temple.

"Bella... Bella, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I didn't..." He let out a resigned sigh. "I'm...sorry."

I drew in a slow breath and cleared my throat quietly, nodding. "It's fine."

There was a beat of silence, and then I felt him shift. At first, I didn't realize what he was doing, and when his searching fingers touched my wet cheekbones, discovering the tears, it was too late.

I heard him give a quick, regretful breath, and then the covers were tugged down, and I felt his hands on my arms and shoulders, as he pulled me up into a sitting position, clutching me against his chest almost violently.

"My God... I'm so sorry, Bella." His tortured whisper tugged at my heart. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like this. I shouldn't have spoken so harshly to you. You meant well – you always, _always_ mean well – and look how I treat you in return. Please, forgive me. I'm just...I'm just so tired, that's all. I didn't mean to sound so..." he trailed off and heaved out a heavy sigh.

I nodded against his chest. "I know." I didn't say that just for his benefit. The truth was that, even though his earlier words had hurt me, they worried me even more. It wasn't like Carlisle to snap like that, and a part of me was afraid he was close to reaching his limit. Whatever it was that haunted him...it was eating him alive. I thought about how I'd found him a few minutes ago, remembered the hunched posture of his shoulders, his unsteady voice... Again, I wondered if our conversation about Esme and the divorce had brought this on. Maybe.

I felt him kiss my hair, as his hands kept stroking my back in a soothing motion, and then he pulled back slightly and reached out to turn on the bedside light. I brought my hands to my face to wipe away what remained of my tears, but Carlisle caught my wrists, pulling me closer again. He kissed my cheekbones and the corners of my eyes, and there was something unspeakably sweet about the gesture, about the way his lips caught my tears, and I felt that tug in my heart again.

"I didn't mean to make you feel this way, Bella," he murmured. "Upsetting you...hurting you...it's the last thing I want."

He pulled away and framed my face with his hands, and then he just looked at me for a while. There was an uneasy clench in my stomach, as I took in his appearance, noticing his red-rimmed eyes and the dark circles under them. I mimicked his posture, bringing my hands to cup his face. I caressed his cheekbones with my thumbs, still wondering what it was that had upset him. What kept him awake in the middle of the night, when the rest of the world was sleeping.

He took my hand from his face and brought it to his lips, softly kissing my knuckles. "Can you forgive me?"

"It's okay," I said quietly. "I shouldn't have pushed you. No one likes being cornered."

He shook his head. "You weren't trying to corner me. You were just worried, and my reaction was...despicable." He pressed another kiss on my knuckles, before he turned and reached out for something on the bedside table. It was a glass of water. He offered it to me, giving me yet another apologetic look.

To be honest, I'd already forgotten why I'd gone to the kitchen in the first place. I accepted the glass from him and took a few sips, thanking him quietly, as I gave it back to him. After placing the glass back on the table beside the bed, he reached out with his hand to run his fingers gently over my scalp.

Right. I'd forgotten that, too, but apparently, he hadn't. Stupid cupboard door. I winced, as he found a small bump, and his fingers stilled.

"Tender?" he asked.

I shook my head. "It's nothing."

He didn't say anything, but instead, he made me bend my head forward, so he could take a closer look. I felt him part my hair, as he inspected the bump, gently running his finger over it. "The skin is not broken, but it'll be sore for a day or two," he murmured.

"I think I'll live," I said softly, torn between amusement and something I didn't have a word for. Here he was, taking care of me, bringing me water, wiping away my tears and fretting over a little bump, when it was him who had been sitting in the dark in the middle of the night, broken and alone, just a few moments ago. It was ironic…cruel, really…that he was so adamant about taking care of me, when he didn't allow anyone to take care of him.

He smoothed back my hair, and I raised my head, giving him a searching look. Either he didn't notice, or he just ignored my gaze.

"I'm sorry I scared you earlier," he apologized softly, once again gently touching my head where I'd hit it. "I didn't mean to."

I nodded. "I know. But to be honest... _this_ scared me more." I raised a hand to his face, tracing the shape of his eyes with my finger. I'd always thought his eyes were older than the rest of him. They were always so tired, his eyes. I wondered how many nights he had spent sitting at his kitchen table, shedding tears no one would see.

The thought made me ache, like something inside me was both burning and freezing. I swallowed, drawing in a deep breath, as I withdrew my hand and placed it on his bare chest instead.

"I want you to talk to someone," I said softly, keeping my voice gentle, so he wouldn't feel like I was pressuring him. "To Esme. To your brother. To _someone_. It doesn't have to be me. I don't care who it is, just as long as you talk to someone and...get help. I know you said you've tried therapy, but..." I paused, as I realized I could actually feel how his heart began to race in his chest. It was thudding against my palm, like it was trying to escape. "Wouldn't you consider…giving it another shot?"

Carlisle avoided my eyes, and I brought my other hand to cup his face, forcing him to look at me. Het met my gaze, but I felt like he was looking more through me than at me. Like his body was here, but his mind wasn't. I expected him to say no, or that he'd say nothing at all, but he surprised me.

"Why?" he asked, his voice so quiet that, at first, I wasn't sure if I'd heard correctly. "Why is this so important to you?"

There was something demanding in his eyes, some wordless, desperate question he needed answered. I held his gaze, wanting to give him an answer, but at the same time, fearing my honesty would make him flee like a scared bird.

"Because it just is," I told him, stroking his cheek with my thumb. "Because it matters to me. Because _you_ matter. Because it's about time someone looked after you for a change."

He shook his head slowly, dropping his gaze. "I don't need looking after."

I brought my hand to his chin, lifting his face to mine again. "By all means, keep telling yourself that," I said, my voice soft but firm, "But I don't believe it. Because I can _see_ you now, Carlisle. And you can't hide from me." I paused, staring into his eyes. "I won't let you."

He swallowed, closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. "I'll...think about it."

I thought to myself that, maybe it was all I could ask for. That maybe his half-promise was better than nothing. And not just maybe; it _was_ better than nothing. After all, I'd expected him to decline right away.

I let out a relieved breath. "Thank you."

I dropped my hands, maybe to tell him I wouldn't be asking any more of him tonight. He saw my wordless signal, his tense frame relaxing visibly. He let out a slow breath and ran a hand over his face in a weary gesture. I lay back down on the bed, watching him, as he reached out to turn off the bedside light.

I pulled back the bed covers as he lay down next to me, and I almost expected him to distance himself from me physically. But he surprised me by pulling me as close to him as he possibly could. I rested my head against his chest and draped my arm over him, listening to his breathing and the steady beating of his heart.

I'd been serious before; I'd been honest. He could try to hide from me, but I wouldn't let him.

Not anymore.


	18. First, Do No Harm

_**"I am still learning how to go back and reread my own chapters without feeling like I want to set all of my pages on fire."**_

 _ **\- E.V. Rogina -**_

* * *

 **First, Do No Harm**

We both slept in the next morning, but luckily, it was Saturday. I had a late shift that day, and against my habits, I stayed in bed much longer than I normally would have. Carlisle was out like a light, and I wanted to keep it that way. As he slept, I studied his face, thinking how he looked so much younger in sleep. A lock of blond hair had fallen over his forehead, and I resisted the urge to smooth it back, knowing he needed to rest. I wondered what he was dreaming about now; at least he looked peaceful.

I tried to be as quiet as I could when I eventually got up and began to prepare for the day. I showered quickly, cringing as I looked in the mirror as I untangled my hair. I'd almost forgotten the small scrape on my bottom lip, but I had to smile and shake my head, as I remembered the reason behind it. There were certainly worse things in this world than to have a handsome man bite you on the lip while you were in bed with him.

Luckily, Carlisle's teeth hadn't done much damage, but still, I decided to resort to something I didn't normally do. I was pretty sure that, some time ago, Rosalie had smuggled a lipstick into my bag, along with several other cosmetic products. She always gave me those, and I almost never used them, but the lipstick she'd given me a few weeks ago would be of use to me now.

My idea worked; the lipstick camouflaged the small, angry cut. I tried to be careful as I got dressed, not wanting to leave smudges on my sweater.

After that, I made myself coffee and some breakfast. I was still a bit intimidated by Carlisle's neat, large kitchen, and I tried not to make too much noise – or mess – as I nibbled on a piece of toast at the same time as I gathered my things and downed a cup of coffee. As I was cleaning up after myself, I noticed Carlisle had forgotten his wallet on the kitchen table. I took it and placed it on the counter where he'd find it, and then, I proceeded to wipe the table clean. After glancing at the clock, I decided I had just enough time to make some pancakes, before I had to leave for work. If Carlisle woke up hungry, at least he wouldn't have to worry about cooking. And besides, pancakes always made things better, right?

Okay, I wasn't _that_ naive. Considering what had happened last night, I knew I couldn't fix things by making him pancakes. But I hoped a little thing like this would make him feel cared for, that it would make him realize I was thinking about him.

After putting the pancakes in the fridge, I scribbled out a quick note for him. Then, I retrieved my bag and left. As I was starting my truck, I cringed and tried to leave the driveway as fast as possible, fearing that the loud, roaring engine would wake Carlisle. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't, but one of his neighbors actually came outside onto their porch to _watch_ me _,_ as I backed out onto the street. I wanted to roll my eyes at her – it was not like it was the first time I'd visited Carlisle's house with my ancient truck.

Or maybe my rusty vehicle was just something they would never get used to. This was a nice, upper-class neighborhood, and maybe I just had to accept the fact that my truck would never fit in here.

My shift at the café passed without incident. Rosalie called when I was having my fifteen-minute break early in the evening. She was at the airport with Emmett; they were about to go visit his parents again. They lived in Calgary, and Rosalie and Emmett usually visited them once every few weeks. I thought it was nice.

Rosalie asked how my weekend had been so far, offering me sympathy when she heard I was spending my Saturday night at work. I didn't tell her about what had happened the previous night with Carlisle; it was too personal, too private a thing to share. I did tell her, though, that I'd met Carlisle's brother the previous evening.

" _He has a brother_?" she asked, stumped. " _Did you know he had one?"_

"No. I had no idea until last night."

" _That's...odd._ "

I shrugged inwardly, understanding where she was coming from, but at the same time, it didn't really surprise me anymore that Carlisle hadn't told me about having a brother. There were a lot of things he hadn't shared with me, after all. At least, not right away. Like his ended marriage with Esme, who also happened to be a very close friend of his. I nearly told Rosalie that Carlisle now knew about me finding his ring, but I stopped myself, knowing neither of us could talk very long. Knowing Rosalie, she'd want to hear every detail about that particular conversation.

But to be honest, I wasn't sure if I was ready to tell her everything just yet. I wanted to mull over these things myself, to figure out how I felt about them. And these were private matters; even though Rosalie was like a sister to me, and we told each other practically everything, I didn't want to go telling anyone Carlisle's secrets. I wanted to protect his privacy. Not that I had to give Rosalie a thorough description of our conversations to let her know what was going on. She wanted to be kept up to date about my situation with Carlisle, but I didn't need to give her every single detail.

" _What was he like? Carlisle's brother?_ " Rosalie asked, her voice pulling me from my thoughts.

"He was nice. Kind of annoying, but nice."

" _Sounds complicated._ "

I laughed. "I don't know. He was very...mouthy. And flippant. Nothing like Carlisle, anyway. I hope I'll see him again someday. He seemed like a nice person, if you can get past his strange sense of humor." I told her about how I'd gone to ring Carlisle's doorbell the previous night, and how Edward had tried to trick me into believing I had the wrong house.

" _How old was he again?_ " Rosalie asked.

I wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic, but I answered anyway. "Two years younger than Carlisle. Forty-three or something like that. He's married, apparently. Two kids."

" _Well, if he's like that at home, I kind of feel bad for his wife. Unless she has a strange sense of humor, too. Or maybe he's a beast in bed, and that compensates for his other shortcomings. Oh – listen, Bella, I gotta go if I don't want to miss the flight. Emmett's waving me over._ "

"Have a safe flight. I'll talk to you soon. Say hi to Emmett for me."

" _Thanks. Will do._ "

I smiled as I put my phone away. Getting up and stretching, I made my way out of the backroom and glanced at the clock. Three hours until I'd get off. The thought made me yawn; the badly slept night was taking its toll. I listened idly to the other waitress who was working tonight with me, as she told me about her plans to meet her boyfriend at a nightclub after her shift.

Ah, to be young and full of energy. My idea of a perfect Saturday night was a hot bath and reading a good book in bed. Maybe I was getting old.

After my shift, I drove to Carlisle's house, suddenly a little nervous to face him after the previous night. I felt as though I'd learned so much about him during the past twenty-four hours. I'd found out he had a brother, I'd found out his ex-wife's name was Esme, and that it had been thirteen years since their divorce. I'd learned he kept his wedding ring in the bedside drawer, because he wanted to keep it close to him, because he wanted to remember the good things about his marriage.

That kind of made me wonder. If there had been good things about their marriage, did it mean there had been bad things as well? And if so...I wondered what those things were. I wondered if they were the reason why they had parted ways.

As I was getting out of my truck, I saw Carlisle was waiting for me at the front door. I crossed the yard with hurried steps, and my breath caught as he smiled at me. It was a tender smile; there was something different about it, but I didn't know what.

As soon as I reached him, he took my bag from me and set it aside. Then, he collected me in his arms and pulled me close for a kiss that was so intense, it forced my head back. He didn't even bother to pull me inside and close the door, and for a long moment, we stood there on his threshold, making out like two teenagers who had just discovered the art of kissing. When we eventually broke apart, my hair was all disheveled, and we were both out of breath.

"You should've woken me before you left," he murmured, his nose nuzzling mine. "You should've pinched me or something."

"Pinched you? Where?" I quirked an eyebrow at him, making him chuckle.

"Naughty girl," he whispered, pulling back from my face to look at me. I giggled and reached out to wipe a smudge of lipstick from his mouth. He frowned, confused, as my thumb came back red.

"Since when have you been wearing lipstick?" he asked, touching a finger to my mouth.

"Since you started biting me during orgasms," I answered cheekily, grinning at his embarrassment. "Oh, my goodness, are you blushing? That's so cute. Red suits you."

He rolled his eyes. "And you," he returned, his tone playful, as he ran the tip of his finger along my bottom lip. "This makes you look very...sophisticated."

"Oh? Is that a nice way to say I should start wearing makeup?" I cocked an eyebrow at him, pretending to be miffed. "Don't I look pretty enough to you? Is that what you're saying?"

He threw his hands up in the air in a gesture of exasperation. "Women," he sighed. "If you try to say something nice and supportive, it'll always backfire. Will I ever learn that?"

I chuckled, shaking my head at his antics, as he pulled me inside and closed the door behind me.

"Are you hungry?" he asked me as he helped me take off my coat.

I shook my head and toed off my shoes. "No, just tired."

He gave me a curious look. "How tired?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what his question meant. He gave me a soft smile, and apparently, he wasn't going to bother to wait for my answer. He grabbed my bag with one hand and my arm with the other, and then he began to lead me towards the hallway. I expected him to take me to the bedroom; I didn't mind. I was pretty sure I'd never be too tired for a roll in the sheets with him, after all. But, as he stopped in front of the bathroom door, I gave him a surprised glance, receiving another small, secret smile in return.

As he reached out to turn the knob and pushed the door open, my eyes widened. The bathroom was dimly lit with candles, and the inviting-looking tub was filled with water and bubbles. All I could do for a moment was just stare. I heard Carlisle chuckle quietly, and then he nudged me gently, wordlessly urging me to step inside.

"Wow," I breathed as I looked around me. After a moment, I turned to face him, smiling. "No one's ever surprised me with a bubble bath before. Nice one, Cullen."

He chuckled, stepping closer to me. "Really? This is the first time? What kind of morons have you been dating?"

"Well, you know my miserable dating history consists of high school boys and idiots who make me end up in the ER."

"Poor thing. I suppose it's my responsibility to make up for those traumatic experiences."

I looked around me, grinning. "Well, the start sure looks promising."

"Just wait. There's more to come." His hands found the hem of my sweater and dove beneath. I shivered as his warm fingers caressed my sides, and then he dragged the garment upward, pulling it over my head. After tossing my sweater aside, Carlisle's hands were instantly back on my body, first caressing my arms, then sliding down my sides, before the tips of his fingers brushed over my lower back.

He knelt in front of me, placing a soft kiss on my stomach, and then, his fingers went to work on my jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them off my hips and down my legs. My panties followed suit, and I put my hands on his shoulders as I stepped out of them, shivering as his fingers wrapped around my ankle. As he rolled off my socks, I once again wondered how he managed to make a simple action like that so...hot. A giggle burst through my lips, then, as he ran his fingers along the sole of my foot, tickling me gently.

After dropping a few soft kisses on my thighs, he stood up slowly, stroking his hands along my sides. Then, he reached behind me to undo the clasp of my bra. Peeling it off slowly, he planted tender kisses to the hollow of my shoulder, and by the time he pulled back, I felt warm all over, like there was fire under my skin. Very pleasant fire.

Carlisle took my hand and guided me to the tub. I swallowed back a moan as I eased into the bubbles, closing my eyes. The water felt heavenly, and I suddenly remembered what I'd thought just a few hours earlier; that a hot bath was a perfect way to spend a Saturday evening. I cracked my eyes open, a little awed by how in sync he seemed to be with me.

"Aren't you going to join me?" I asked and looked at him, a little surprised he hadn't undressed by now. He had only unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, making me frown confusedly.

"Some other time," he murmured quietly, sitting down on the edge of the tub. "This is just for you."

I pouted. He gave a soft chuckle, and then, I felt his fingers gathering my hair, rolling it into a loose bun at the nape of my neck.

"But I'm lonely," I protested.

"Why on earth?" he asked. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." I heard a quiet click, and soon, a sweet, calming scent filled my nostrils; I realized he was pouring shower gel into his hands. My eyes slipped closed again as he began to knead my shoulders and back, every now and then dousing them with water. I brought my knees to my chest, leaning my head down, an involuntary sigh leaving my chest; his hands felt heavenly.

I heard him give an amused chuckle. "Have you been on your feet all day?" he asked.

"Pretty much," I mumbled, my words slightly slurred. "That feels amazing."

"Does it, now?" I could hear the smile in his voice. I shivered violently as his other hand began to follow the line of my spine, kneading the tense muscles of my back. Man, he had magical fingers. I sighed again, only now realizing my eyes were closed.

"Have you ever thought about becoming a masseur?" I asked, my voice ridiculously sleepy.

"I don't know. Am I any good?"

"My God. Can't believe you're even asking." He chuckled softly at my words. I kept my eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his strong fingers, as he kept rubbing my back and shoulders, working out knots I didn't even know I had.

A tiny part of my mind was wondering where his careful attentiveness was coming from. Not that this was something I didn't know to expect – Carlisle was always such a gentleman, so caring and considerate, and drawing me a hot bath and giving me a massage were definitely things he might do. But I guess a part of me was wondering if he still felt sorry about what had happened last night. If so, he humbled me. Because, here he was, once again, taking care of me. Trying to make up for something that didn't need making up for. He'd already apologized, after all.

"Lean back." His quiet words pulled me from my thoughts, and I did as he asked, feeling like I was only half-conscious. Had he put something in the bathwater? Or was it the shower gel that made me so sleepy? It smelled something like lavender and strawberries. I blamed the lavender.

As I leaned back, I felt him shift, and at first, I didn't realize why the back of my head wasn't touching the bathroom wall. I cracked my eyes open and noticed he was now kneeling on the floor beside the tub, and he had draped his other arm behind my neck, so my head was leaning against it. His free hand was stroking down my arms and dousing my shoulders and chest with warm water.

My eyes slipped closed again.

"You didn't have to do this, you know," I mumbled sleepily, as he stroked his fingers down my sides.

His nose nuzzled my temple. "Why do you say that? You don't like this?"

I smiled. "Believe me, I'm enjoying myself. That's not the problem."

"Then, what is?" His lips pressed against that spot beneath my ear, making me shiver. His hand slid down my stomach to my thigh, and I hummed quietly, as he began to rub it gently. He paid the same, careful attention to my other thigh, and by the time he was finished, I felt enervated, but also strangely wired.

"Bella?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"What's the problem?"

"What problem?"

He chuckled. He kept his voice low and quiet, as he spoke. "A moment ago, you said, 'Believe me, I'm enjoying myself. That's not the problem.' And I was wondering...what's the problem?"

"Can't remember," I mumbled. At that point, I was ready to say anything, just as long as he kept going. Just as long as he didn't stop. I bit my lip, as his hand trailed over my stomach again, slowly gliding over my hipbone, before his fingers stroked my inner thigh.

"You have poor focus," he murmured in a low tone. "Is your mind wandering?" His hand moved to my other thigh, and his touch became lighter, making me want to growl in frustration.

"What do you think?" I answered, my voice becoming heavy and breathless. I suddenly realized I was squeezing the edges of the tub with my hands.

"Well, I think...you're very easily distracted." He dragged his hand up my inner thigh, and I inhaled sharply, as he suddenly cupped my mound without warning, sliding his finger between my folds. He chuckled, low and deep, and I couldn't decide which affected me more; the sound of his soft, taunting laugh or his intimate touch.

"Carlisle..." My breath hitched, as his fingers kept exploring my heat, drawing lazy circles around the tender bundle of nerves above my center. " _Carlisle_..."

"I love it when you say my name like that," he murmured quietly, his nose nuzzling my ear. I gasped, as he dipped one finger lower, finding my entrance and pressing upward.

"Like...what?" I managed to pant out. I didn't know what he was doing, or how he was doing it, but his touch was driving me insane.

"Like it's the only word you can form. The only name you can remember."

"Maybe it is."

"Maybe? Just maybe?" He added more pressure, causing the heel of his hand to press against me in a very delicious way.

"Oh, my–" I would have thrown my head back, but since it was already resting against his arm, all I could do was just tilt my face towards the ceiling and draw in greedy breaths. He curled his finger upward and stroked firmly, and for some reason, that small change made everything feel even more intense. I couldn't remember the last time my excitement had peaked this fast. He'd barely started touching me, and I was ready to snap. "Yes...don't stop...please..."

"Say my name again," he whispered.

Like I had a choice. I felt like I was seconds away from passing out, and as he moved his hand again, gently running his fingers along my wet folds to tease the swollen nub of my arousal, bright lights began to explode behind my eyelids. "Carlisle..."

A shudder rippled through me, as his touch dipped lower again, and my hips bucked against his hand, a shaky breath pouring out of my lips. Jolts of white-hot pleasure began to stab through me, driving me into a shaking, moaning state of delirium. And then, I was coming apart, unaware of the sounds around me, the lapping of bathwater against ceramic, the moans echoing from the bathroom tiles...I was only aware of the jolts of pleasure running through me, only aware of Carlisle's gentle but insistent touch on my tender flesh, only aware of his warm breaths against my temple and the soft touch of his lips, as he kissed my cheek.

I came down from my high slowly, my body feeling heavy and weak. It was a moment before I could make myself open my eyes, and when I did, I immediately felt like closing them again. There was a soft kiss on my temple, and then, I felt Carlisle's hand gently stroke my side.

"That was amazing," I sighed, when I was finally able to form words again.

I could hear the smile in his voice, as he asked, "Are you feeling relaxed yet?"

"More than relaxed."

He chuckled. I felt him shift, and I opened my eyes to see him reaching for the towel that hung on the nearby rack. He wrapped an arm around me and helped me to stand, and after quickly rinsing the suds from my body, he guided me out of the tub and wrapped the towel around me.

"Wait," I murmured, stepping closer to him and letting the towel drop away. My hands went to the buckle of his belt, but he caught my hands, stopping me.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," he whispered.

I frowned up at him, confused. I pressed closer to him again, feeling the obvious evidence of his desire against my stomach. "Why not?"

He reached out to pick up the towel, wrapping it around me again. "Because I want tonight to be about you."

I frowned in disappointment. "You're too good to me."

"Not true," he disagreed, gently patting my skin with the towel. After drying me off, he blew out the candles and drained the tub. Then he guided me to the bedroom, pulling back the covers, and I was too tired to resist as he urged me to lie down. Again, I wondered why I was suddenly so exhausted. Maybe it was the long day, or the warm bath, or the lavender in the shower gel, or the skilled attention Carlisle had given me, but I could barely stay awake as I waited for him to undress and crawl into bed behind me. When he did, I turned to face him and nestled as close to him as I could.

"You're wrong, by the way," I murmured sleepily, not even sure if I was talking out loud. "You _are_ good to me. So good."

Carlisle was silent for a while. "I wish I could be better," he answered, speaking so quietly I could barely hear. "I wish I could give you everything you ever wanted."

His whispered words confused me, and I wanted to ask him what he meant, but exhaustion settled over me like a heavy blanket. Sleep claimed me before I could really process his words.

* * *

Kneeling with a resigned sigh, I swept a pile of coffee cup shards into a dustpan. This was the fourth time that day I had been forced to become a little too familiar with the café floor. This day seemed to be full of misfortune in other ways as well; one of the coffee machines had stopped working, and I'd jammed my finger between the door when I'd come from the changing room this morning.

Maybe all this had happened because it was Monday, and Mondays usually sucked. It was a universally acknowledged truth, right?

I got up and crossed the café, tossing the shards into the trash bin. Glancing at the clock, I let out a relieved breath as I noticed my shift would be over in a few minutes. If one of the customers decided to knock their cup off the table for the fifth time that day, it would be someone else's responsibility to clean it up.

After putting away the dustpan and brush, I washed my hands quickly and exchanged a few words with the waitress who'd be working for the rest of the night, informing her about the broken coffee machine.

Just as I was about to go and change, the door of the café opened. Deciding I might as well serve this one last customer before I left, I turned around with a polite smile, an automatic greeting on my lips. But, as my brain registered the person stepping inside, all I got out of my mouth was just a quiet and surprised, "Oh."

The lights of the café played off Edward's bronze hair. He stopped as he saw me, and almost immediately, a confused, surprised smile curved his lips.

"Well, well, well," he said. "It's a small world."

I gave a soft laugh, taking a few steps closer to him. "Indeed."

"You work here?"

"No. I just like to wear aprons."

He laughed appreciatively. "Good one. Uh...can I have a coffee? Black, please?"

I fixed him with a deadpan stare. "Sorry. We don't sell coffee. Maybe you should try next door?"

Laughter bubbled from his lips again, and he winked at me. "Oh, I see what you did there. I like you, Isabella Swan."

I rolled my eyes. "What a relief. I was so worried you wouldn't." I grabbed a tray and made my way behind the counter. "So. Coffee, black?"

"Yes, please." He made his way to the other side of the café, choosing a table that was more secluded than the others and close to the window. Taking a cup and saucer, I poured the coffee and then took it to him, giving him a small, polite smile as I set it on the table. He responded with a wide grin. There was a glimmer in his green eyes that reminded me of his brother, but I had to admit, it wasn't often I saw that look in Carlisle's eyes.

"Here you go."

"Thanks. Would you like to join me, Isabella? Or is occasional laziness allowed while you're working?" His voice was teasing, and I kind of struggled to figure out if he was serious or not.

"Actually, my shift just ended, so technically, I'm no longer working." I narrowed my eyes at him. "And don't call me Isabella."

He smirked at me, wiggling his eyebrows. "Do you let my brother call you that?"

That made me roll my eyes. "He calls me Bella."

"Nice. Nickname basis. You must be getting close."

I sighed. "Are you always this annoying?"

He shrugged. "Not all the time. I have a serious job, like I'm sure you remember from our conversation last week. And you know what they say. Work hard, play hard. I need my sense of humor to survive. It's a coping mechanism."

"Uh huh." I gave him a long stare, still not sure what to make of him. Then, I shifted, turning around. "Enjoy your coffee, Mr. Cullen."

"Edward. Call me Edward. Mr. Cullen makes me feel like I'm at least a hundred years old, and I'm not. And Bella?"

I turned to look at him over my shoulder, and there was something different in his expression now. He was still smiling, but there was something like hesitation in his green eyes.

"Yes?" I asked, when he had been silent longer than I expected.

"Uh...how's it going with my brother? How are things?"

I shrugged, and now it was my turn to hesitate. I had no idea how much he knew about the details of our relationship. Had Carlisle told him we were just sleeping together, and that was it? Or did men share those things with each other? Did brothers?

"Everything's fine," I answered, deciding a vague answer was the best answer.

"Do you have plans for tonight?"

I nodded. "Uh, yeah. He's coming over this evening."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Does Carlisle spend a lot of time at your place?"

What was up with the third degree? "Yeah, I guess. We stay over at each other's places all the time."

He looked surprised, almost skeptical. "Really?"

I shrugged, wondering why that confused him. "Yeah."

Edward nodded slowly, still looking at me closely and narrowing his eyes. "So, how long have you two been seeing each other, then?"

"Uh...a few weeks, I met him in August."

This time, his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. I could see he tried to hide his surprise, but he obviously wasn't very successful. "That's more than the usual few weeks. Huh," he murmured, almost as if to himself. He looked down at his coffee cup. "You should get a medal for that."

I frowned, a knot of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. "What do you mean?"

Edward shook himself from his thoughts and looked at me again. I met his gaze, perplexed, and for a long while, he just stared at me, once again hesitating. It was almost like he was gauging me, trying to determine if I was ready for something. Or if I was _capable_ of something, more likely. It was...very confusing, and I began to feel slightly self-conscious under his measuring gaze.

Even though I hadn't known him for long – hell, I couldn't even say I knew the man at all – still, I'd somehow gotten so used to the idea of a mischievous grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, and that was why I felt more than confused, when his expression suddenly turned serious. He glanced down at the table and drew in a small breath, still uncertain. Then, he shook his head, like he had come to a decision about something.

"Screw this, he's never going to tell you himself, anyway," he muttered under his breath. "Bella, do you have a moment? Let's say...like a year?" He gave a dry, bleak laugh. "I'd really like to talk to you about something. Maybe it was fate that made me walk into _this_ café instead of the one that's across the street. It's like the universe itself wants me to have a conversation with you, and who am I to disagree with the universe?" He gave me a crooked grin before sobering again.

There was something in his voice, in his uncommonly serious expression, that made me curious. And also, a little worried. "Sure. I'll just take this away and change quickly," I waved the tray at him.

He nodded. "I'll be here. And by all means, grab yourself a coffee as well. This may take some time. A _lot_ of time."

Still feeling a little uneasy, I made my way to the counter, putting away the tray and untying my apron. As I went to the backroom to get my bag and change my clothes, I wondered what it was Edward had to tell me. Why had he said I'd deserve a medal for being together with Carlisle for over two months? Sighing, I shook my head and grabbed my things, making my way back to the café. Taking Edward's advice, I grabbed myself a coffee and crossed the café to his table.

His eyes were still measuring, now almost watchful, as I took a seat across from him. He opened his mouth to say something, but Sammy – the waitress who had taken over after me – chose that moment to come and offer him a refill. He thanked her quietly, and when she was gone, he turned to fix me with another close stare.

"You're looking at me like you expect me to grow horns or fangs or something," I told him. "It's a bit...unsettling."

He gave a soft laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm just trying to figure out what I should do. Just trying to determine if I'm about to make a huge mistake. I mean, I know nothing about you."

"Um...okay?" I looked at him, even more confused than a moment ago. "And I know nothing about _you_. All I know is that you have two kids, your wife's name is Irina, you have a weird sense of humor, and you're Carlisle's brother. A brother whose existence I only discovered just a few days ago, by the way."

That made him grin in a sad manner. "He keeps you guessing, doesn't he? Carlisle?"

I shrugged. "He sure does."

Edward leaned back in his chair, watching me closely. "How do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"That he doesn't...tell you things?"

I quirked my brow, looking down at my coffee to hide my expression. "What makes you think he doesn't tell me things?"

"Well, first of all, I know my brother better than anyone. I know how he functions. Second of all, you've known him for months, and you only found out about me last week. What does that tell you?"

"It tells me he's a very private person. So what? He doesn't owe me anything."

He nodded slowly. "Because you two are just messing around?"

"Exactly."

He pursed his lips in a pondering manner. "You never answered my question."

"What question?"

"I asked: how does it make you feel, knowing he doesn't tell you about stuff?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Frustrated, I guess. But like I said–"

"–He doesn't owe you anything," Edward finished for me. "Or...maybe that's what you just want to keep telling yourself. I saw how you were looking at him last week. I'm not blind, you know."

I let out a sigh. "Can you get to the point? What did you want to talk about?"

He was silent for a long time. "I _am_ getting to the point. I'm just laying some groundwork here first. I'm trying to figure you out. I'm trying to...I'm trying to figure out what you want from my brother...and what you expect. I don't know you, and I'm just trying to figure out if you're...good enough for him."

I gave a surprised laugh. "That's what this is about? Some protective little brother stuff? You're trying to determine if I'm bad for him? You're afraid I'll mess him up?"

He shook his head. "No. You misunderstood. And besides, you can't mess him up. He's already as messed up as a person can be. I hope you're aware of that." He quirked a questioning eyebrow at me.

I hesitated. "I know he has...issues."

"Right. He does. And because of those issues, he hasn't had a good day in fourteen years. I certainly hope you're aware of that, too." He paused and sighed. "Look, Bella, when you said you've been seeing each other for weeks, it surprised me. It caught my attention. Want to know why?" He waited until I nodded. "It surprised me, because Carlisle's relationships don't usually last longer than a couple of weeks. Even a month is a long time for him to date someone."

"He dated that Kate for a couple of weeks," I pointed out.

"Right. A _couple_ of weeks. If he said that, he meant something like three weeks or less. I know this, because he told me about her. Did he tell you why they broke things off?"

"Carlisle said she wanted to settle down and have a large family. And apparently, it's not something he wants. He's...he's told me he's not capable of anything long-term with anyone. He feels that starting a family with someone, for instance, is something that's behind him. Something he hasn't been able to consider for a long time."

"But you don't know why."

It wasn't a question, but I answered, anyway. "No, I don't know why. I do know something makes him view these things differently. And I know it wasn't always this way for him. I know about...Esme."

Edward looked surprised again. "He told you he's been married?"

"Well, eventually. But only after I'd told him I accidentally found his wedding ring. He was kind of forced to explain."

"Oh." He took a sip from his coffee, and then he ran his fingers through his bronze hair. "Well, at least he told you. That's something. That's...more than I expected."

I frowned. "What do you mean by that? He doesn't tell people about his divorce?"

"Well, he never tells that stuff to the women he dates. It's not something he _likes_ to talk about, as I'm sure you understand. One reason is that it's obviously a hard topic for him. And the other reason is, his relationships never last, and he knows it. He doesn't bother sharing things like that because of it." He gave me a close look. "Which is why it surprised me that you know about it at all. That he willingly shared this thing with you."

"Like I said, he was kind of forced to explain, after he found out I knew about the ring. And then, there was the fact that I saw him with Esme a while back. Once again, the whole thing was an accident. I left work earlier because I had a migraine, and I happened to walk past the diner where Carlisle was meeting her."

A small grin pulled at his lips. "I'll bet you were jealous. She's one fine woman."

I gave him a glare. "I had no reason to be jealous. Even if Carlisle hadn't told me they're just friends now, it's none of my business who he sees. We're not answerable to each other. We're just messing around, like you said."

"Is that how you really feel? Be honest with me."

I gave a frustrated sigh. "What does it matter? And why do you care how I feel? What is this sudden obsession you have with your brother's relationships? And what did you want to talk to me about in the first place? You know, I don't have time for this." I made to get up, but Edward surprised me by grabbing my hand.

"Just...just hold on a second, okay? Alright." He blew out a sigh. "Alright. Let's cut the crap. I have a question I need to ask, and you have to give me an honest answer. _If_ you want to find out what I have to tell you, that is."

I sat back in my seat, curling my fingers around the coffee cup. "Okay."

"Alright." He pulled in a deep breath. "You've been seeing my brother for about two months now. I've been trying to tell you it's a long time for him. He hasn't stayed with anyone that long since...since Esme." He paused, licking his lips in a nervous manner. "That's why I have a reason to believe he must really like you. Not that he's _disliked_ the women he's been seeing in the past, but my point is, the only reason he's even been dating anyone at all is probably because Esme and I kept pressuring him into it."

I frowned. "Why?"

"We'll get to that. My point...my point is that, whenever he's been seeing someone, he's either ended things with them, or they've ended things with him sooner or later. Most times, it's been sooner. And most times, it's been Carlisle who's made the call to walk away. The thing is, Carlisle doesn't want to become attached. In his mind, having feelings for someone is the worst thing that can happen to him."

I nodded slowly. A part of me was glad one piece of the puzzle had found its place, but I was still more or less confused about what Edward wanted to tell me. What he wanted me to know.

"Why is that?" I asked. "Is it just a commitment issue? What is he afraid of?"

"What has he told you?"

I rummaged through my memories. "Well, not much. All I know is there are things he finds impossible to talk about. I've thought it had something to do with Esme and their divorce, but...I don't know. At the beginning, I actually thought he was a widower. He was always so sad, and...I once saw him come from the cemetery." I paused, reaching back to undo my ponytail. I ran my fingers through my hair, momentarily lost in thought.

"A couple of weeks ago, he said he has a rather harsh view on life," I continued. "That the world is a different place for him than it is for me, and...that he envies me for being able to wake up in the morning and think everything is okay." I paused, biting my bottom lip. "I know he doesn't sleep well. He has nightmares. If I happen to wake up in the middle of the night, he's almost always awake. Sometimes, he takes walks, no matter how late it is."

Edward nodded solemnly. "He's had trouble sleeping for a very long time now. It worries me, seeing how tired he is."

I nodded, thinking about how I'd found him a few nights ago, sitting alone in his dark kitchen. "Has it been this way ever since his divorce?"

He hesitated. "Uh...no. His sleeping problems actually started before that. The divorce was never a cause for anything. In fact, it was a result, just something that followed after."

"After...what?" I asked. "What happened?"

Edward blew out a sigh, and he looked at me for a very long time.

"Like I said, Bella...I want to believe my brother likes you. More than that, I want to believe he trusts you. He's spoken to you about things he's never shared with the women he's dated in the past, and I believe that counts for something. And I saw how he looked at you last week, how he was with you. You know what else? He doesn't usually spend nights at anyone else's place but his, mostly because of his sleeping problems, but also, because he finds it too intimate. And he's not good with intimate."

"Why not?"

"Because intimacy leads to attachment, and in his mind, attachment leads to unnecessary pain. Which begs the question...why would he make an exception with you? You said he spends nights at your place, didn't you?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, he doesn't stay over every night. But when he's not spending the night at my apartment, he usually invites me to stay over at his house."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying you see each other _every_ _day_?"

"Pretty much."

"Huh."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Is that significant?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. Use your head. We're talking about a man who doesn't get past the fourth date without freaking the hell out. The fact that you see each other every day, that you spend almost every night together..." He shook his head in frustration and gave me a confused glance. "You look like you don't see my point."

"Well, I don't. What does it matter? I mean..." I shook my head and searched for words. "I guess I'm...I don't know, pleased, flattered? – that I've gotten this far with him. He admitted he didn't expect us to last this long. Maybe I didn't, either. When we started this relationship, we agreed to keep it casual and take it one day at a time. That's exactly how I've tried to look at things. I've tried not to have expectations." I began to fiddle with the sapphire necklace around my neck, lost in my thoughts.

"And you've been trying not to have expectations, because Carlisle has said he's not able to give you anything more. Because long-term relationships aren't his thing."

"Right."

Edward leaned forward in his chair, looking at me intensely. "Alright. And now we're getting to the question I wanted to ask you earlier. What do you want, Bella?"

I frowned. "What do you mean, what do I want?"

"I mean, you say you've been trying not to have expectations because of my brother's obvious limitations. But be honest with yourself. _Do_ you have expectations, after all? If given the chance, would you want something more?"

I avoided his green eyes. "It doesn't matter what I want. He made it very clear from the beginning he's not able to start anything real with me. The only reason why he agreed to start a casual relationship with me was because I told him we can keep things light. That we don't have to make this into anything serious."

"Maybe. I'm not denying that. But the million-dollar question is, why hasn't he broken things off with you by now? Why is he still with you? Why is he breaking pretty much every pattern he's adopted during the last fourteen years? He's spending nights at your apartment, he's told you about Esme, he's spending practically every day with you, he's told you about some of the things that trouble him–"

"Not really," I cut him off, disagreeing with the last part. "He occasionally tells me something, yes, but he's always very vague and reluctant about it."

"But my point is, at least he's _talking_ to you. That's _significant_. I understand why it doesn't seem much to you, but believe me, it's a huge difference to someone who's seen him withdraw and clam up about everything for over a decade." His eyes flicked to the sapphire necklace I was fiddling with. "What's that?"

I sighed, feeling suddenly extremely tired. "It's a necklace."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I can see that. I mean, what's the story behind it? Why are you clinging to it like that?"

"I'm not clinging. I'm just..."

"Did Carlisle give it to you?"

What was he, a mind reader?

I let out another sigh. "He gave it to me on my birthday a few weeks ago."

He nodded slowly, smiling knowingly. "Well, that settles it." He leaned forward in his seat again, holding my gaze. "Now, Bella, be honest with me. Everything depends on your answer. Do you like my brother?"

"Of course."

"How much?" Edward demanded, his green eyes hard and intense, like two emeralds.

"Much." I drew in a deep breath. "Too much."

He leaned back and nodded slowly. "Alright. That's all I need to know."

I looked at him warily. "And why do you need to know that?"

"Because I had to make sure you're up for the task. Because I love my brother, and nothing would make me happier than to see him happy. But that's not going to happen unless someone – as in me – does some meddling. Unless I give you a nudge in the right direction."

"Okay. And why do I need a nudge? And why the meddling?"

"Because I know Carlisle. He's going to let the chance of a lifetime slip through his fingers, unless I tell you the things I'm about to tell you."

I took a sip from my coffee; it was cold. "I assume that, when you're talking about the chance of a lifetime, you mean me. I'm very flattered. But I have a question. If your brother likes me that much, as you keep implying, why wouldn't he just let me know? If he really likes me, why not just stay with me, then? Make this official?"

"For the same reason he's refused to let anyone close to him for these past years. Because he's a prisoner of his own head and fears. Because he clings to his past as much as his past clings to him. The world may seem like an endless river of possibilities and dreams for you, Bella, but for Carlisle, this life, this world, is just a place where only worst-case scenarios exist."

He let out a slow breath, holding my gaze. "Always remember, Bella, that it's not other people who set the hardest limits and biggest boundaries for us. They don't have to, because we do it ourselves. The most severe judge in your life is you. Very often, we stand in our own way and stop ourselves from making choices that are good for us.

"Our minds can be our biggest enemies, the biggest obstacles we ever have to face. Not to mention our fears. Fear is probably the strongest power in the world. It turns everything beautiful darker. It comes into your heart so quickly and easily, and before you even know it, it's starting to get comfortable. And when fear gets comfortable, you suddenly notice that getting rid of it is impossible."

I swallowed. "And that's what happened to Carlisle?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"And...what is it Carlisle's afraid of?"

Edward fixed me with a long, penetrating gaze. "As you know, he was once married to Esme. It's been almost thirteen years since their divorce." He paused. "Did Carlisle ever tell you he used to be a doctor?"

I nodded.

"But he never explained why he quit?"

"Not really. He just said something like, it wasn't the field for him. I don't quite understand it, though. I…uh...I hurt my hand a few weeks back, and it was easy to see that taking care of others is something he enjoys."

Edward nodded. "Well, he used to enjoy it. I always thought he was meant to be a doctor."

"Why did he quit, then?"

"Because he felt like he wasn't worthy. Because he felt like he failed in the worst possible way. And not just as a doctor."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Edward shifted in his seat, reaching into his pocket to take out his wallet. I watched him, confused, as he flipped it open and pulled out a small picture, reaching over the table to give it to me.

A little girl with black, untamed hair and blue eyes stared at me. I lifted my eyes to meet Edward's intense gaze, frowning. It was the same picture Carlisle had accidentally dropped on the table of the café a few weeks ago. Well, maybe not the _same_ picture. This picture wasn't creased and dog-eared, like the one I'd seen a few weeks ago.

"Have you ever seen this photo?" Edward asked quietly.

I nodded slowly. "Uh...yeah. Carlisle has the same photo in his wallet."

"He showed it to you?" he asked, dubious.

I shook my head. "No. He dropped it once, and I found it. I'd forgotten the whole thing. Who is she? The girl?"

Edward ran a hand through his hair in a weary manner. "That's my niece, Bella."

I blinked slowly, trying to understand what he'd just said. "Your niece?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"But..." I shook my head and frowned, feeling like my brain had frozen. "But that means... Your _niece?_ Carlisle has a _daughter_?"

"Had."

"Had?" I repeated stupidly.

Edward gave me a sad smile. "Yes." He swallowed hard. "Her name was Alice. Carlisle and Esme... She was the center of their existence. Esme had dreamed of motherhood her whole life, and when Alice was born, there was obviously no limit to their happiness and joy. Carlisle loved his daughter more than..." he shook his head, at a loss for words. "Well, more than anything. He sometimes had to work insane hours at the hospital, but he spent every free minute of his time with Alice, trying to make up for every lost moment, for every morning he wasn't present when she woke up, for every night he wasn't there to tuck her in.

"Of course, Esme loved her just as much, but it was like Carlisle's whole life hadn't even _started_ before Alice was born. He was...he was the best father for his daughter, the kind of father everyone wishes they had. And he enjoyed it.

"I'd never seen him so happy, so complete. Fatherhood wasn't just a role for him; it was the whole purpose of his life. Just like he was always meant to be a doctor, he was meant to be a father as well. I could spend a hundred years watching him and trying to learn his patience and kindness, and still, I wouldn't be half the man he is. Half the _father_ he is."

He paused, letting out a quiet, slightly shaky breath. "I don't know if he's ever told you about our parents. We had a good mother, the best there is, but the same can't be said for our father. Carlisle swore that, if he ever got a chance at being a parent, he was never going to make the mistakes our father did." He paused again, looking at me sadly. "You look like...you don't know what to think."

I opened my mouth and closed it again, realizing I was still holding the small picture. "Well, I don't. I mean, when he dropped the photo a few weeks ago and I saw it...I had other things on my mind, and I dismissed the whole thing. I hadn't seen Carlisle in days, and his behaviour worried me. I just figured the girl was a relative of his, like a niece or something. Back then, I didn't know much about his background and family, but I assumed he might have siblings. I kind of forgot about the picture soon after. I should've known right away, though. Her eyes..."

Edward nodded. "Carlisle's eyes, right? The same eyes our mother had. Alice got her dark hair, too."

I stared at the picture. Such a beautiful little girl. I drew in a shallow breath, blinking furiously. "What happened to her?"

Edward stared at the table between us. "There was...an accident." He swallowed. "Carlisle, Esme and Alice were heading home from a friend's house one night. They, uh...they came to a busy intersection..." He paused and raked a hand through his bronze hair. "There was a drunk driver. He crashed into their car from behind, and...Alice was in the backseat."

I closed my eyes, feeling nauseous. "Christ."

"I know," Edward's whisper was quiet. "Everything happened very quickly. There was nothing to be done. Carlisle tried, of course. He wasn't injured badly – I think that made it all the more painful for him. He survived with bruises and cuts, whereas Alice..." he trailed off for a moment, trying to find words. "He, uh...he tried to revive her at the scene, before the EMTs arrived. But there was nothing he could do. There was too much damage, and she was losing blood too quickly. She..." he blew out a slow breath. "She died in Carlisle's arms."

I kept my eyes closed, raising a hand to my lips. Letting out a trembling breath, I shook my head, suddenly feeling weary and exhausted, like I'd run a marathon. An emotional marathon.

"I don't know what to say," I heard myself murmur. "I don't...I don't know what to _think_. I can't even imagine..." I shook my head again, opening my eyes. "How old was she?"

"Four years old," Edward answered quietly, nodding toward the picture in my hand. "That was taken two weeks before the accident. This November, it'll be fourteen years since it happened."

I stared numbly at the small, cherub-like face, the messy hair, the mischievous grin, the stormy blue eyes...and I thought about the broken man who had those same eyes, thought about him sitting alone in the dark. It was no wonder he didn't sleep. To have your own child die in your arms, having to remember it for the rest of your life...the thought alone was unbearable. And if that was unbearable, what was it like, when it was your reality? What was the next, worse stage of unbearable? Was there a scale for these things?

"And Esme? Was she hurt in the accident?" I asked to get something else to think about. Blinking furiously again, I placed the picture of Carlisle's daughter on the table, suddenly fearing I might damage it.

"Not badly. She had a concussion and a few bruised ribs."

I nodded, drawing my lungs full of air and then exhaling slowly. "I just...I can't wrap my mind around this. It's too awful. It's no wonder Carlisle doesn't sleep at night."

Edward nodded. "An extreme case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Just imagine what it's like to suffer from it for years." He sighed. "He keeps having nightmares about the accident. I don't even dare to think how many times he's relived it in his dreams. I think his subconscious returns to it over and over again, because he can't stop feeling guilty in his waking life."

I stared at him. "Guilty?"

He gave me a small, joyless smile. "He couldn't save her," he said simply. "He was a doctor, and he couldn't save her. He was her father, and he couldn't protect her. And he feels like he should've been able to do both. For fourteen years, he's been reliving everything that happened over and over again, second-guessing this decision, or that decision. If he'd focused on this injury first instead of that, if he'd tried to control the bleeding here instead of there..."

Edward shook his head. "The people who examined the body told Carlisle over and over again that there was nothing he could've done differently. That he did everything absolutely right, but it just wasn't enough. There was just too much damage, and she was so small...but Carlisle..."

He sighed, staying silent for a moment. "He still can't accept it, not even after all these years. He felt guilty – _feels_ guilty – pretty much about every little detail. After the accident, he kept going over every small thing. What if he'd taken a different route that night? What if they'd left their friends' house a minute earlier? Or a minute later? What if the safety seat of the car was the wrong size, and he hadn't noticed it? What if he'd paid more attention to the car that was driving behind them?"

He shook his head. "At first, I thought it was just a way to cope with Alice's death, a way to try to reason it. To accept it. I thought it'd help him move on. I thought he'd eventually run out of things to obsess about, things to blame himself for, but..."

It was a moment before I could speak. "I'm sure there's nothing more terrible for a parent than losing their child," I murmured eventually. "And I guess it's...understandable...if there's guilt involved, but..."

Edward nodded. "He kind of took it to whole other level. He couldn't stop blaming himself. He still can't. That's one reason why Esme...why they couldn't stay together. Esme took Alice's death just as hard, but she accepted it more...easily...than Carlisle. Her grief was more...I don't know, open and unfettered. She willingly sought comfort and support from her friends and family, but Carlisle...he just shut himself off. He distanced himself from everyone and everything. Including Esme. And since he'd failed to save Alice, he felt unworthy to go back to the hospital and call himself a doctor."

"He quit," I stated softly.

"Yes." Edward ran a weary hand across his face, giving me a sad smile. "'First, do no harm,'. Does it sound familiar?"

I frowned. "Hippocratic oath?"

He shook his head. "A very similar phrase appears in the Hippocratic oath, yes, and that's why many people confuse it. _Primum non nocere_ , 'first, do no harm,' is Latin. Basically, it's a guiding principle for physicians that, whatever the intervention or procedure, the patient's well-being should be the primary consideration. Sometimes, that means doing nothing, as wrong as that sounds."

He sighed quietly. "I suppose...Carlisle still torments himself with the thought of, what if there'd been something he could've done differently, or, what if there was something he should've left _undone_. It never mattered to him what the doctors told him about Alice and her injuries. Those thoughts, those questions he had...they never left him alone. And they never will."

I stared at Alice's picture again. "What happened to the other driver? The one who crashed into their car?"

Edward shook his head. "He never regained consciousness. He died a few hours later at the hospital. The alcohol in his blood was six times more than the legal limit."

I frowned, suddenly remembering something. "Is that why...why Carlisle doesn't drink?" I remembered the look in his eyes, when he'd seen the bottle of vodka in my kitchen, and his relief, when I'd told him it wasn't for me. And then there was that story I'd told about that party I'd gone to with Rosalie when we'd been teenagers, his expression when I'd told him we hadn't been able to walk back...

"That's one reason," he answered, hesitating. "But he, uh..." He gave a quiet, bleak laugh and stayed quiet for a minute, searching for words. "I still don't know how he did it, given everything that was going on with him. I mean, he quit his job at the hospital, and then there was the divorce.

"He gave the house to Esme and moved out. After that, he put all his energy into studying. He eventually earned a doctorate in English in record time. On the outside, it seemed as though...life went on. That time was passing again, even for him.

"I knew he wasn't...alright...but I didn't expect him to be. I knew he was still grieving, and I knew he hadn't gotten over what'd happened. I also knew he was having trouble sleeping, but he had medication for that. What I didn't know was that, he was medicating himself with something else as well."

My lips felt cold. "You mean..."

Edward nodded, staring blankly at the table. "There was one night, about three years after Alice's death, when I...I tried to call him. It was getting late, but I'd promised to call him that day. When I did, there was no answer." He paused, drawing in a slow breath.

"I still don't know what made me jump into my car and drive to his house. Maybe it was a whim, or some sixth sense telling me something was wrong, but...it still horrifies me to think what would've happened if I'd chosen not to go." He gave me a glance, as if to make sure I wanted to hear what he had to say. I wasn't sure if I wanted to, but at the same time, I knew I _needed_ to know.

"Maybe it was...an accident. Maybe not," he said slowly. "There was an empty whiskey bottle...and a bottle of sleeping pills next to it. It was half-full, but I had no idea when he'd refilled his prescription."

I closed my eyes again and blew out a slow breath, trying to ignore the churning nausea in my stomach. Edward stopped speaking, and when I opened my eyes after a moment, his green eyes were sympathetic.

"Like I said, I never knew if it was an accident, or just a drunken impulse. And I never asked, because I knew if there was anything to confess, he would've lied to me in order to spare me. But I kept a very close eye on him after that, obviously. He never drank ever again, as far as I know.

"Esme and I managed to convince him to seek therapy, which he did, but I think he did it more for our benefit, to set our minds at ease. But there's a limit to everything, even to Carlisle's twisted sense of selflessness and responsibility.

"He quit the therapy after a couple of weeks. I guess I can't really blame him for that; talking about Alice didn't really help him. He was always in worse shape after his sessions. I had to pick him up and drive him home a couple of times, because he couldn't do it himself." He pushed aside his coffee cup, lacing his fingers on top of the table. "Esme asks him to go with her to her own psychiatrist a few times a year. He goes, begrudgingly, but..."

I nodded. "Maybe it's a good thing he's made to talk about it every now and then. I mean, I'm sure it can't be easy, but..."

"I agree. It's a good thing Esme's so persistent about it. Aside from the psychiatrist, Esme's the only one Carlisle talks to about...Alice. He doesn't even speak Alice's name to anyone else – I haven't heard him say it even once in fourteen years. It's ironic, considering he's probably thinking about her most of the time. He visits her grave every now and then, sometimes together with Esme."

"Has it gotten better at all over time?" I asked carefully. "I mean, I know people deal with these things differently. And I'm sure if someone loses their child, they can never get completely over it."

"You're right. I don't think losing a child is something a parent can get over. I'm not sure if you're even _supposed_ to get over something like that. As for if things have gotten better for Carlisle over time...well, he gets up in the morning, he goes to work, he functions pretty much like a normal human being.

"But compared to Esme, Carlisle's grief is still...I wouldn't say fresh, but rawer, maybe. If Esme's grief has become a scar over time, Carlisle's is still an open wound that refuses to close. One reason is that they deal with their loss differently, like you said.

"One indication is that Esme, and her new husband, live in the house she shared with Carlisle when they were still married, and she could never imagine moving away. Never. The house is beyond dear to her, because it was Alice's home, too. It's full of good memories, and she draws strength and comfort from that.

"However, Carlisle...he couldn't even consider staying in that house, for those very same reasons. Because it was Alice's home, and because it's full of good memories. The house doesn't comfort him like it comforts Esme. Returning there only causes him pain."

"He never moved on, did he?" I asked quietly. "I mean, Esme got remarried and all..."

Edward nodded. "He once swore to me that he's never going to put himself through that again. He said he'd rather stay alone than take that kind of risk again. He said he doesn't want to – that he _can't_ – become a father ever again, because it'd mean there's the possibility he'll...fail. That he'll have to say goodbye again."

He stroked his chin in a pensive manner. "That's why he's so adamant about keeping his relationships casual. Short term means he doesn't have to feel anything. It means he doesn't have to think about the future. The mere thought of starting a family with someone is unbearable to him. It'd mean he's willingly taking the risk of losing someone again.

"I said earlier that Carlisle sees the world as a place that's full of worst-case scenarios. Caring about someone, loving someone...that alone is too much for him, and the thought of becoming a father...he thinks it's the worst thing that can possibly happen to him. And maybe... maybe he's also afraid of replacing Alice, in a way, as crazy as it sounds. I also think he believes starting a new life is something he doesn't deserve, after his...failure."

I nodded slowly. Finally, I understood. And now that I did, I wasn't sure what to think. How to feel.

"Was it hard for him...when you eventually started a family with your wife?" I asked. "How does he relate to your children?"

"I'm sure it was challenging for him at the beginning," he answered slowly. "But it's _Carlisle_ , you know. I'm sure he was genuinely happy for me and Irina when Seth was born, and later Elizabeth. Of course, he kept his distance at first, but...I think it's getting easier for him, now that they're a bit older.

"Seth turned nine last month, and Elizabeth turns five in December. I know he loves them. He sometimes takes Seth to play baseball with him; it's their thing. And for some reason, Seth actually listens to Carlisle better than he listens to me," he rolled his eyes, giving a soft, amused laugh.

After a moment, his expression grew solemn again. "I'm sure he sometimes looks at my kids and wonders why all that was taken away from him. But maybe...maybe spending time with them has helped him, in a way. But then again...maybe he's not guarding his heart, because they're not _his_ children. Like I said...coming to care about people is his worst nightmare, and that's why it's not often he allows himself to feel something."

"Why is he seeing people, then? Why is he dating?" I asked quietly, staring at my cold coffee. "If he says he'd rather stay alone than take the risk..." I sighed. "He must feel really lonely. I would."

"I'm sure he's lonely," Edward agreed. "But that's not why he dates. It wasn't his choice, or his idea, exactly, to start seeing people again. It was Esme who changed his mind and encouraged him to start seeing people. Or _forced_ him, more likely. She was actually pretty furious with him at one point, and she even set him up with a friend of hers. It torments her to see him alone. She wants him to move on and live again, like she has. Despite the fact that their marriage fell apart after what happened to Alice, there's still a lot of love there."

I nodded, remembering their gentle embrace in front of the diner. "I'm sure there is."

"They still send letters to each other. It's their thing. They used to do it after they'd met, when they'd just fallen in love."

That made me look up at him. "Letters?"

Edward shrugged. "Yeah. Not love letters anymore, obviously." He gave a dry laugh. "Like I said, it's their thing. They write about things that have happened, about normal, everyday things, but also, about things that are hard to talk about. I think it's therapy for them, in a way."

I nodded again, briefly thinking about that one night, weeks ago, when I'd picked up Carlisle's mail and dropped one of the letters. It had been from Esme.

Edward breathed in slowly, bringing my attention back to him.

"It'd mean a lot to Esme, to see Carlisle happy with someone," he mused. "Like I said, she once set him up with a friend of hers, not even once, but actually twice. That's how much she wants to see him happy. Carlisle knows it. And he also knows he's hurting her, when he holes himself up in his house. That's why he's trying to make an effort."

"Oh. So, he's dating to keep up appearances...for Esme. He doesn't want to make her worry."

Edward nodded. "Yes. But it's not exactly as it sounds. He never uses anyone. He's never misled the women he's dated by allowing them to believe he's capable of offering them something more. He's always made it clear he's not looking for anything serious, that settling down and having a family aren't things he wants. He's only sought the company of women who aren't expecting the relationship to go anywhere. That way, he's not hurting anyone, and when Esme asks if he's been seeing someone, he doesn't have to lie to her. Everyone's happy. Well...almost everyone."

"Right." I closed my eyes and bit my teeth together, swallowing. I breathed in slowly and then exhaled, running a hand through my hair.

When I opened my eyes, I saw that Edward was watching me closely. "I know what you're thinking. What you're afraid of."

I blew out a breath. "Oh? And what's that?"

"You're afraid this applies to you as well. That the only reason Carlisle's with you is because he believes your relationship doesn't have to go anywhere."

"Well, it's true. I was the one who suggested we don't have to make this into anything complicated."

"I concede your point. However," Edward leaned forward, holding my gaze, "even though your relationship started that way, it doesn't mean it has to define how it continues."

I gave a soft, frustrated laugh. "But for these past minutes, you've been going on and on about how attachment and feelings are Carlisle's worst nightmare. Why would that suddenly change?"

"Maybe it already has changed, or at least I hope it has. That's why I wanted to talk to you in the first place." Edward waited until I met his gaze again, as if to make sure he had my full attention.

"Like I said before, I saw how he looked at you the other day. Like I also said, I know my brother. If he spends practically every day and every night with you, if he tells you things about Esme, if he gave you a very expensive-looking necklace just a few weeks into your relationship... there's a hell of a good reason for that. And there's one more thing that makes me believe there's something different about you."

"What's that?"

Edward smiled crookedly. "He didn't tell me about you. Not until I came to see him last week, and he was forced to admit he was expecting company. As in _you_."

I stared at him, confused. "How does that...what does that..." I shook my head. "I don't get it. He never mentioned anything about me, and you think that's a _good_ thing?"

He nodded and grinned. "Yep. You know why? Because he always tells me immediately if he has something going on with someone. He's always like 'Yes, well, she's a sweet woman, but I don't think it'll work out.' And every time, a few days later, he tells me how they parted ways. But you? He didn't tell me anything about you until last week. And that's because he's scared shitless, if you'll excuse my crude expression. He always clams up when he's scared. That's something you should remember, by the way."

"So, he likes me, and that scares him, and somehow, that's a positive thing?" I asked, staring at him dubiously.

"You're quick. I like that. And now, the ball's in your court. If you like my brother, and I know you do – I'm freakishly good at reading people, that's what makes me an excellent lawyer – you're going to have to think about a few things. And then, you're going to have to talk to Carlisle. That's going to be a little harder.

"He's going to try to reject you, and he'll be all, 'You're just wasting your time with me, I can't give you what you need,' but if you _stand your ground_ , you'll be able to make him see reason. Unless..." Edward gave me a long look. "Unless the thought of staying with my brother is something you don't want. No matter how much you're in love with him."

"Hey! I never said–"

"You didn't have to," he cut me off, smiling. "I'm the mind reader, remember?"

I sighed and just looked at him for a long time before speaking. "Of course, the thought of having something more with him is appealing. More than appealing."

"But?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure if there is a 'but.'"

"Do you want to have children? Because that's the one thing Carlisle can't give you, the one thing he even refuses to consider. Of that I'm certain. Losing Alice...and the _way_ he lost her...it's something he can never leave behind. Some things...some things just can't be fixed, and this is one them."

My hand went to the necklace around my neck. I brushed a finger over the sapphire, considering his words. "He asked me that once, if I wanted to have a family someday. But to be honest, it's something I haven't thought about much. I'm not sure if I'm even mother material. Besides...I'm twenty-five. The longest relationship I've had lasted two years, and it turned out he was a jerk. I've never gotten to the point where I'd actually _have_ to consider this for real."

"Well, congratulations. Now, you've reached that point. You're at a crossroads, if you will." He grinned at me. "So, it's time to start considering."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Maybe." I flicked him a wary glance. "Carlisle's not going to be happy when he finds out you told me his life story. Something tells me he doesn't appreciate meddlers."

"He'll thank me later, I hope. Unless you're going to break his heart."

I smiled sadly. "Can't break something that's already broken."

He nodded, sobering again. "True. But I hope...I hope there'll be healing. It's not that I expect the impossible from you. After all, you can't help a man who won't help himself. But I just hope…I just hope..." He let out a long breath, shaking his head. I realized it was kind of painful to see him like this. Edward was supposed to be grinning, smiling. His emerald eyes were supposed to be full of rainbows, not shadows.

I reached across the table and touched his hand, surprising both him and myself. "I know," I told him. "Thanks for telling me all this. I promise I'll think about everything you said. And you're right. I like him. A lot."

"Are you going to talk to him, then? Or...do you have to think about things first?"

I shook my head. "I'll talk to him tonight. I'm bad at keeping secrets, and he'll know if there's something I haven't said. And besides...I think it's about time there were no more secrets between me and him. Some things shouldn't be left unsaid." I took the picture of Alice from the table and gave it back to Edward. He offered me a sad smile.

"Well said." He glanced up, as Sammy brought us the checks, and as I reached out for my bag to get my wallet, he shook his head at me.

"I'll get this. If you're going to make my brother happy, the least I can do is to pay for your coffee."

I chuckled. "No pressure?"

He grinned, his emerald eyes sparkling. "No pressure."


	19. Demons

_**I was ready to give it all up - everything. I was half out of my mind with love.**_

 _ **And I didn't think twice about what I was throwing into the fire, as long as I could keep it burning for just another minute - if only I was allowed to sit awhile longer beside its pale glow.**_

 _ **That was how I loved you in the end.**_

 _ **With my body cold and shuddering.**_

 _ **With empty hands over smoldering ash, counting out the minutes.**_

\- Lang Leav -

* * *

 **Demons**

When I left the café, I didn't head to my apartment right away. I needed some time to resolve my thoughts before facing Carlisle, so I drove around aimlessly for what felt like hours, thinking about the things Edward had told me.

I still found it hard to wrap my mind around it all. For weeks, I'd wondered what it was that haunted Carlisle's sleep and waking life, for weeks I'd wondered what made his eyes so much older than the rest of him. I'd hoped – a little foolishly and naively – that once I found out what it was, once I knew what troubled him, I could make it all better. That I could...fix him.

Now, I knew it was impossible.

" _That's what you do, Bella – what you've always done. You mend broken hearts. That's why I'd like to see your heart stay intact."_

Rosalie's words from weeks back echoed in my head in a new way. Had she seen how desperate I was to help Carlisle? To make him feel better? To be something he needed?

But what did he need? Or did he need anything? What if Edward was wrong, and I was just another woman passing by in his life? And even if I wasn't...even if Carlisle could feel the same about me as I felt about him, was I willing to stay with him and sacrifice a future with children? Was I ready to make that kind of decision? According to Edward, the thought of commitment alone was hard for him, and starting a family again was Carlisle's idea of a nightmare. He'd said having another child was pretty much the worst thing that could happen to him. That was how much he feared to lose someone he loved.

And like Edward had said...maybe Carlisle was also afraid of replacing someone who was no more.

I couldn't really blame him for those feelings, considering what he'd been through. I was sure having to bury your own child was hard enough as it was, but the thought of your child dying in your own arms, unable to stop it, unable to help...it was so horrible I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

I stared at the road ahead of me, suddenly realizing I was driving past the cemetery; I wondered if I'd made an unconscious decision to come here. Slowing down, I glanced to my right, my eyes studying the neat rows of gravestones. How often did Carlisle come here? How often did he come alone, and how often with Esme? When they did come, were they talking about Alice? Or were they talking _to_ her? If so, I wondered what they said to her. Were they talking about mundane things, or were they telling her how much they missed her? Were they imagining what she'd look like today if she were alive? Were they trying to guess what her hobbies would have been, what kinds of things she'd be passionate about?

She'd be about eighteen now, I realized, at the beginning of her adult life. I thought to myself that, half of the best things in my life hadn't happened until I'd turned twenty-one. The thought made me sad.

Eventually, I turned the truck toward my apartment, realizing I wouldn't become much wiser by avoiding Carlisle. I needed to talk to him, and I needed to see his face. Maybe I'd know what to say to him once I did. Maybe I'd know what to do. What to choose.

 _You already know what to do. That choice was made a long time ago._

Sighing, I silenced my inner voice. After a few minutes, I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building, noticing Carlisle's car was already there. I wondered how long he'd been waiting for me. I cut the engine and got out at the same time as the door of his car opened.

His face was etched with worry; that was the first thing I noticed. "Where have you been?" he asked. "I've been trying to call you all afternoon. "

"Oh." I dug out my phone from my bag, noticing the screen was black. "Out of battery. I haven't checked it since I got off my shift. I'm sorry." He followed me as I made my way to my apartment door.

"But your shift ended almost three hours ago," he pointed out, as I unlocked the door and we stepped inside. "Where were you?"

"Have you been waiting for a long time?"

He shook his head, closing the door behind him. "Just a few minutes."

"I'm sorry."

He brushed it off. "It doesn't matter. I just got worried that something had happened. I expected you to be home by now. I was just about to go look for you."

I took off my coat slowly and went into the kitchen, placing my bag on the counter. "I…uh...yeah. Something came up and...I guess time got away from me. I'm sorry you had to wait. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"Has something happened?" Carlisle asked, looking at me more closely. He tossed his coat on the kitchen counter next to my bag and closed the distance between us with two long strides, touching my arm. "What is it? Why are you looking at me like that? Bella, what's _wrong_?"

I shook my head. "Nothing's wrong," I assured him.

"Then, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing's _bothering_ me. It's just that...well, I've had a strange afternoon, that's all."

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean? Strange how?"

I turned away from him, hanging my coat on the rack by the door and making my way into the living room. He followed me with hesitant steps, and as I turned around to face him, there was concern in his eyes. And something else as well, something like...restlessness.

"Why don't you sit down," I suggested quietly.

He made no move to do so. He just kept looking at me, like he didn't know what to think. Maybe he could sense something had changed. Or had anything changed? Now that I knew?

I hoped not.

"Bella...please. If something's wrong, I need you to tell me."

I let out a slow breath and sat down on the couch. After a moment of hesitation, he followed me, sitting down next to me. He reached out to take my hand, holding it a little tighter than was necessary.

"Nothing is wrong," I said again, slowly and deliberately. I drew in a deep breath, holding his gaze. "I just, uh...I ran into someone at the café today."

Carlisle frowned. "Who?"

"Edward."

He looked confused. "He came to see you?"

I shook my head. "No, not exactly. He was surprised to see me there, actually. He didn't even seem to know I work there. Unless you've told him I do?"

He was still frowning. "No, I don't think I mentioned it to him. That's odd. Well, it's a small world."

I chuckled softly. "Yeah. That's what he said."

"I hope he didn't drive you crazy with his inappropriate jokes. I know he can be...frustrating." He gave a soft laugh.

I shook my head. "No, he kept the inappropriate jokes to minimum today."

That made him frown again. "Well, that doesn't sound like Edward at all. Was something troubling him? Did he seem ill?"

I shook my head, a little amused by the fact that, as soon as Carlisle found out his brother hadn't been harassing me with jokes, he immediately assumed he was unwell. "No, he wasn't ill. Our topic was just...serious. That's all."

"Your topic?" he asked, still frowning.

I breathed in deeply. "My shift was about to end when he came in, and he asked if I could spare him a moment. He said...there was something he wanted to talk to me about."

Carlisle's eyes became wary. "And?"

I held his gaze, squeezing his hand gently. "Carlisle...he told me. Everything."

He just stared at me for a long time, not blinking, not even breathing. Then, he shook his head, his frown deepening. When he eventually spoke, his voice was confused, like he was still struggling to understand what I'd said. "He told you..." he trailed off, his voice oddly empty.

"He told me about...what happened," I said carefully. "He told me...about _her_." I didn't dare to say Alice's name out loud. Since Edward had said Carlisle couldn't bear to speak her name, maybe it meant he couldn't bear to hear it, either.

I saw it in his eyes, when my words and their meaning finally sank in. His face lost color so quickly it worried me. I reached out with my other hand to touch his arm, wanting to ask him if he was feeling alright. I was suddenly glad I'd asked him to sit down for this.

He didn't say anything for a long moment. He just kept staring me, like he was expecting me to take my words back. Eventually, he closed his eyes, untangled his hand from mine, and lowered his face into his palms. I hesitated, wondering if I should speak, but something told me he needed a moment. I touched his arm carefully; the sleeves of his shirt were folded up to his elbows, and as soon as my hand came in contact with his bare skin, he lifted his head from his hands and looked at me.

"Edward told you," he said slowly. I couldn't read his tone.

I nodded. "Yes."

He turned to stare at my coffee table, but I had a feeling he didn't really see it. Again, he was silent for a long moment, almost like he was still trying to process my words. Almost like he couldn't believe Edward had done what he had.

"Are you upset?" I asked cautiously, still trying to read his expression. His eyes were completely blank, but when I spoke, he turned to look at me again.

"Upset?" he asked quietly. "With who? You?"

I shrugged. "Me, Edward, someone. I'm just...trying to figure out what's going on in your head right now. You're barely breathing."

As soon as I said it, he let out a quiet sigh and shook his head. "I'm just, uh...I'm just surprised, I guess. And _shocked_. I didn't expect Edward to..." He shook his head again and got up from the couch so quickly his sudden movement actually startled me. I watched him as he paced around my small living room, staring at the floor and rubbing his neck.

"I understand why you didn't tell me yourself," I told him, watching him closely. "I understand how it would've been...hard."

He flicked me a look, but he continued his pacing. "It's not that...I didn't _want_ you to know," he said slowly.

I felt something like relief as I heard him speak; it made me feel a little helpless, seeing him like this. It reminded me of the Carlisle I'd found in the dark kitchen a few nights ago. I'd felt helpless and uncertain back then, too. But the difference was that I knew everything now. I knew what his demons were.

"I'm sure it's not something you like to talk about," I said carefully. "And I'm...sorry. I know how lame it sounds, but I _am_ sorry. About what happened."

He stopped his pacing and breathed out slowly. Then, he sat down in the armchair on the other side of the coffee table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"So am I," he sighed, and something in his words, in his voice, and even in the sound of his breathing, made my heart clench. He sounded so...weary. Exhausted. His voice wasn't just empty. It was...broken. And then I saw it, what Edward had been talking about. There was something in his eyes, something deeper than regret and sorrow. Maybe even something deeper than guilt, if such thing existed.

"Edward also told me about...how you feel," I heard myself say. The look in his eyes...I would have done practically anything not to see him like that ever again. The words slipped out of my lips on their own accord. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was." I didn't know why I felt as though I had to say it, and it wasn't as if I expected my words to change anything. If he had felt this way for fourteen years, a few simple words wouldn't fix it. Maybe nothing would.

Immediately, his eyes turned cool and avoided mine. "Forgive me, Bella, but I don't think you're the right person to make an assessment about that."

"Then, who is?" I asked softly. "You?"

He didn't answer. I watched him closely, hoping he'd look at me.

"Maybe you're right," I murmured after a while. "Maybe you're the only person who gets to have a say in that. But there's a problem."

His eyes shifted, but he still wouldn't look at me.

"Something Edward said today stuck with me," I continued quietly. "He said...it's not others who set the hardest limits for us; we do it ourselves. He said the most severe judge in your life is you. That our minds can be our biggest enemies...not to mention our fears." I paused, noticing that his jaw became tight. "I can never imagine how much it must've hurt you to lose your daughter like that. But how long are you going to keep punishing yourself for something you had no power over?"

He turned to meet my gaze, then. His eyes were hard and cold, like blue river stones. "Until it stops hurting," he answered in a cool, broken voice. "Until I begin to believe I really had no power over what happened. Until I can truly believe I've punished myself enough."

I held his gaze, regardless of the fact that the unfamiliar, cold look in his eyes horrified me a bit. "Do you honestly believe that day will come?" I asked quietly. "If you keep going like this?"

He stared into my eyes for a moment more, and then he looked away. He breathed in slowly and closed his eyes momentarily, running a weary hand down his face.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do," he said quietly, his voice emotionless, "But you don't know, Bella...you don't understand. You can never understand what it's like to..." he trailed off, exhaling a tired, defeated breath of air. His eyes stared blankly at the floor.

I got up from the couch and rounded the coffee table, making my way to him. Kneeling on the floor at his feet, I took his hand. Something heavy settled in the pit of my stomach, when he didn't react to my touch.

"You're right," I said, my voice quiet. "I don't know what it's like. I have no idea what you're going through. I don't have a clue about what you must be feeling." I paused, swallowing hard. "But I do know you can't keep going like this. Something has to change."

He gave a joyless, broken laugh. "Nothing ever changes," he disagreed. "This is how it's been for..."

"For fourteen years?" I finished for him. "And this is how it'll be for another fourteen years? And then what?" I asked softly. "Are you done punishing yourself, then?"

"That's my point. Perhaps...perhaps I'm never done."

"And that's what's wrong here," I stated. "You don't _allow_ yourself to be done. Because if you do, it'd mean you'd have to stop blaming yourself. It'd mean you'd have to accept that you've suffered enough. It'd mean you'd have to give yourself permission to...feel happy again. To move on."

He closed his eyes, not saying anything.

"But you're not going to do that," I continued with a soft voice. "Edward told me that...you feel like you don't deserve it. You're wrong."

That made him open his eyes, and the cool look in them made my heart clench painfully.

"I'm the judge of what I deserve," he said quietly. There was an edge to his voice I'd never heard before. "You have no right to say that." He eased his hand from mine and got up in one fluid movement. I followed him, as he strode out of the living room and went into the kitchen, grabbing his coat from the counter.

"You're wrong again," I told him, trying to keep my voice steady. "I do have the right to say that."

He stood with his back to me, his shoulders tense. Without turning to look at me, he put on his coat, doing nothing to acknowledge he had even heard me.

"I'm not trying to tell you what to feel," I continued. "I'm not saying you should feel this emotion or that emotion. I'm not saying enough time has passed since you lost your daughter, and I'm not saying it's time to get up, get over it, and move forward. _That_ is something I have no right to say. I'm just..." I let out a breath, licking my lips. "I'm just...worried...about what this is doing to you. And I'm not the only one who's worried."

"I'm well aware of how much I burden Edward and Esme. Do you think that doesn't trouble me at all?"

I sighed. "That's not what I–"

"And I think it's enough that I'm weighing them down. I don't need another–" He blew out a sharp breath and fell silent again, hanging his head.

"Another what?"

I saw his shoulders rise and fall, as he pulled in a deep breath. "Another person worrying about me. Another person...another..."

"Another person suffering because of what happened?" I supplied. "Another person whose life will be affected because of your so-called failure? Another person who'll ruin their life because of you?"

"That's not what I said."

"But that's what you were thinking. That's what you're afraid of, isn't it? Or at least that's _one_ thing you're afraid of."

"Bella–"

"How long are you going to keep this up?" I asked gently. "How long are you going to keep everyone at arm's length? How long until you reach your limit? Have you ever stopped to ask yourself that? How long can you engage in superficial, short-term relationships that'll never last, just to stop Esme from worrying? How long before it destroys you?"

"I told you," he answered quietly. "I told you that one time that I'd already made a decision to...to stay alone. But then _you_..." He threw up his hands in a weary gesture. He let out a slow, trembling breath. "As for when it'll destroy me...that question is not really...relevant. You can't...damage something that wasn't whole to start with. That's what I've tried to tell you all along. That's what I tried to tell you soon after I met you. But you didn't listen."

"I listened," I disagreed. "More than that, I wanted to understand. And I do now. Or at least...or at least I _know_ about things now."

Carlisle shook his head and put his hands on his hips in a decisive manner, heaving out a breath. It troubled me that he wouldn't turn around to face me. "It doesn't change anything."

"Why not?"

"Because." His shoulders rose and fell in a forcibly even rhythm. "It…it doesn't change anything, because it _shouldn't_ change anything. You and I...there's just too much..." He paused, drawing in another deep breath. "It'd never work out."

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the hurt his words caused, and also dying to find out _where_ his words came from. "How do you know that?"

"Because, I just do. I know myself well enough to say that I'm not up for it. I thought I'd made that clear – I thought you _knew_ that. That you'd accepted that."

"I had," I told him, briefly wondering if that was a lie. "Or at least I tried to accept that. But as time passed, I came to realize...I came to realize why I wanted to understand you so badly. There's a reason why I sat down with Edward today. I knew it was my only chance to learn more about you, because I knew you were never going to tell me about those things yourself."

"And what does that tell you? The obvious fact that I can't share certain parts of myself with you? That's hardly a foundation for any type of healthy relationship. I'm not a whole person like you are, Bella. I never will be."

"I'm not asking you to be. I never did. I've never known you as a whole, perfect person. The man you are...I've never known you any other way. That's my _point_. You never had to be whole…for me to fall in love with you."

My words were met with silence. I expected Carlisle to turn around, to look at me, to say something, to react _somehow._ But he just stood perfectly still, his head low, his shoulders hunched, his hands still on his hips.

He looked like...he looked like someone who'd just received a piece of bad news. Or not exactly. Actually...

He looked like he had just gotten a huge _load_ of bad news.

I could feel tears burning in my eyes, but I blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. After a moment, Carlisle sighed, his arms dropping to his sides.

"I was afraid this might happen," he murmured, just loudly enough so I could hear.

"Why?" I asked, pleased that my voice didn't tremble. "Is it so horrible to know someone cares about you?"

"Yes." The fact that there was no trace of hesitation in his voice hurt more than his answer did. "Yes, it is. It's because I can never be what you need me to be. I can never become the person you need me to become. What happened all those years ago...it determined the trajectory of my life. I'm not going to change, Bella. Like I said, you're a whole person, and I'm not, and that's what makes the difference here. I can never..." He heaved out a shaky breath, and then he turned to face my way. His head was still bowed, and he kept his eyes on the floor.

"Since Edward went through all that trouble to tell you about what happened all those years ago, I'm sure he didn't leave out a lot of details. Therefore, I'm sure you know what...what it was like after the accident. What _I_ was like. Starting a life with someone...it's just something I can't even consider. Think about it, Bella. Think about it all. Think about how I behaved when Esme needed me. After our daughter...after the accident..." He paused, swallowing and tugging at his hair in a frustrated manner.

"You were grieving," I said quietly.

"So was she!" he all but yelled. "If I was capable of turning my back on her, when she needed me most, what else am I capable of? Or _not_ capable of, more likely? Let's say we give this a shot. Let's say we stay together. Let's say something happens. Let's say you need me, and I'm not there!"

He raked a hand through his hair, pulling in a deep breath, evidently trying to calm himself. "Are you really ready to choose that kind of life for yourself? And to be second best to a memory of someone I can't forget? Are you really willing to take that kind of risk? That I'll fail you when you need me?"

My breath caught in my chest, as he finally met my gaze and held it. His eyes no longer reminded me of cornflowers. They were like two dark clouds that warned of an impending storm.

"Nothing has to happen," I answered. "I know how you look at these things. I know how you've looked at them for a long time now. And I understand why you see them like you do. But you have to start believing that not every good thing ends in suffering and heartache. Life is more than a series of worst-case scenarios.

"You can't keep dodging and avoiding the good things in life, just because of something that _might_ happen. There'll come a moment when you just can't keep it up anymore. As soon as something good comes your way, you can't just aim and take a swing at it to send it back where it came from. Life is not a game, or a competition where you have to stay safe all the time."

"Then, why do I feel like I keep losing?"

I didn't have an answer to that. I just wanted to go to him. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to make it all go away. But it wasn't that simple. My presence alone wouldn't make any difference. Maybe nothing would.

I had to try, anyway. I took a small step forward, and as soon as I did, Carlisle backed away. He ran a hand through his hair again in a gesture of frustration, his eyes on the floor.

"This is not just about me," he said in a low voice. "I'm trying to think about _you_. I can't give you the life you're dreaming about."

"How do you know what kind of life I'm dreaming about? You don't know that. How could you?"

He gave me a look. "Well, do _you_ know?" he asked. "Because it doesn't matter what I think or believe, if _you_ don't know what you want."

"What I want? What do you mean, what I want?" I asked, and I had to wipe a hand over my eyes to stop the tears from spilling. "You want me to spell it out for you? I wasn't clear enough before? I want _you_. That's what I want."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Maybe now. But soon...or in a few years...when those friends of yours get married and start a family, you'll regret your decision to stay with someone who refuses to give you those same things. And then, you'll feel like you're on the outside looking in."

"You can't know that."

"I can. I know it, because...because I'm the one who's been in that position for years. I look at Esme, I look at Edward, I look at his children, and I think about all those things I wanted for myself, things I lost, things I can no longer have. I don't ever want you to feel like I do. Like you've had to sacrifice something. Like you've...lost something you can't get back."

I breathed out slowly. "I know what you mean. I understand where you're coming from. But you don't have to feel like you should...protect me. I'm capable of making my own choices. Edward said...he made sure I fully understood that there are things you can't give me. He made sure I understood how...impossible...the thought of having another child is to you. I know all this."

Carlisle shook his head, sighing. "You're still missing the point."

"How am I missing the point?"

He looked my way again. "You've earlier said you're not sure what you want out of life. Soon after we'd met, I asked you if family and children are something you dream about, and you said you were open to experiencing those things someday."

I threw up my hands in a frustrated manner. "And I also said I haven't thought about it that much! I haven't had a reason to. My longest relationship lasted two years, and it ended up with me in the ER. Everything went to hell during one single day. I haven't had a reason to go from _that_ to asking myself if I want children or not."

"And now we're finally reaching the root of the issue. _Now,_ you're seeing the point. You haven't really stopped to _ask yourself_ _that_. You haven't considered it seriously. And you're so young, Bella. You can make a million choices now and regret them all later."

"That's very condescending," I shook my head and wrapped my arms around myself, wondering when our discussion had turned into a full-blown argument. "This is suddenly about my _age_?"

"That's not what I meant."

"I know I'm a lot younger than you. I know I still have a lot of choices and decisions ahead of me, and I know some of them will be wrong, and I'll end up regretting a lot of them. But that's how life is. I don't have a crystal ball to look into, Carlisle – no one does. Nothing is guaranteed. Life doesn't come with a warranty."

"Exactly. I know that better than most, don't I?" He ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his eyes wearily. "What I want you to understand is that some choices, some decisions, are bigger and more important than others. Some of them are irreversible, and that's why you can't take them lightly. Wanting children, not wanting children...it's not something to decide overnight. And you can't stand there and tell me you know what you want, when only a few weeks earlier, you were still so uncertain about it. And I..."

His jaw tensed. "The thought of staying with you, when I know these questions are still open...when I know _I_ might stand in the way of what you want..." He paced around the kitchen, his hand gripping his hair.

"I can hardly live with myself now, Bella. How could I live with myself, if I knew there was something you wanted, and you had to give it up, just because I was too afraid to live?" He shook his head. "I'm not ready to risk that."

I felt like all strength left my body. "What are you saying?" My voice sounded too calm; it was a shocking contrast to the loud alarms going off in my head. In my _heart_.

He avoided my eyes. "You know what I'm saying."

My breath left my chest in a rush, and something like anger, or maybe it was just plain hurt, took its place. "You say it's _my_ choice, something _I_ should consider, whether I want children or not. But if you walk through that door now, you're making the choice for me. And that's not right. You don't have the right to do that. I don't _accept_ that. If you do that, it means you don't have one ounce of respect for me."

He paced again, and after a while, he leaned himself against the counter, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. Slowly, as if in defeat, he shook his head. "I don't understand what Edward was thinking...when he decided to tell you everything. I believe that was _my_ choice to make. Not his."

"He told me, because he knew you never would've told me yourself. Because you never would've made that choice," I answered, blinking furiously. "And he told me, because...because he was under the impression that maybe...maybe you cared about me...more than you've let on."

Carlisle didn't look at me. He ran a hand down his face and pushed away from the counter, turning his back to me.

His silence was louder than a million words. A million screams. I wanted to block my ears from it, wanted to close my eyes, so I wouldn't have to see how he faced away from me. My eyes were suddenly completely dry; it was like even my tear ducts knew that no amount of crying would drive away this empty ache inside me.

And still, some part of me clung to the last shred of hope. The words leaving my lips, the silent question they held, were both my lifeline and my downfall.

"I suppose he was wrong," I stated quietly, my voice entirely too calm.

Carlisle didn't deny the words. Without meeting my gaze, he turned around and walked to the door.

"I have to go," he said, his voice even and emotionless. Without sparing me a glance, he opened the door and stepped out.

I stood there for a long time after he'd closed the door behind him. Hot, burning tears were pouring down my cheeks, and my heart was racing in my chest, like it wanted to run after him. I couldn't blame it. I wanted to run after him, too.

But I stood completely still, suddenly certain that no matter how fast I ran, I'd have no chance to catch up with him.

Maybe I had never had any chance. Maybe he'd always been unattainable, and I'd simply been deceiving myself by allowing myself to believe that, maybe we could someday fall into step with each other, and walk side by side.


	20. A Story Left Unwritten

_**"What was it like to love him?" asked Gratitude.**_

" _ **It was like being exhumed," I answered, "and brought to life in a flash of brilliance."**_

 _ **"What was it like to be loved in return?" asked Joy.**_

" _ **It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness," I replied, "to be heard after a lifetime of silence."**_

 _ **"What was it like to lose him?" asked Sorrow.**_

 _ **There was a long pause, before I responded:**_

" _ **It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me - said all at once."**_

\- Lang Leav-

* * *

 **A Story Left Unwritten**

Later, when I thought back on everything, I had to wonder how I had gotten through the next days. Later, once the worst of the emotional upheaval was over, I thanked all my lucky stars that I had my job, something to focus on.

And Rosalie. Someone to lean on.

I didn't tell her about the whole thing at first. Picking up the phone or driving to the salon to see her would have meant I had to talk about it, that I would have to say the words. And once that happened, once the words were there, outside instead of inside, it would become real.

Or not exactly. Everything about this was as real as it could get, after all, and a few words wouldn't change anything. They wouldn't make anything worse or better. But I knew they would be like small daggers punching through my heart, and I didn't need daggers. I didn't need more cuts. I still hadn't recovered from the previous blow, the one that had left a gaping hole instead of several, smaller ones. If words were daggers, it was very ironic that it hadn't taken a single sentence to leave that aching, bleeding gash in my heart; a moment of silence had accomplished what no words could.

So, I worked. I picked up a few extra shifts. I got up in the mornings. I forced myself to eat, I drove to the café, and then I came back home again. And on more than one night, I lay in bed fully awake, staring at the darkness and wondering if the man with the cornflower blue eyes and sad smile was staring at the same darkness. We were in the same city, under the same sky, so surely the darkness was the same, too?

Maybe it was fate's cruel joke that it was the only thing we got to share. Darkness.

On the seventh day after Carlisle had left, I took off the sapphire necklace. I put it in the drawer in my bedroom and locked it. Then, I took the key and...and I put it in the freezer. For some reason, it made a lot of sense in that moment.

After I'd missed three calls from Rosalie and hadn't returned any of them, she came to see me. She took one look at my face and knew.

"What happened?" she asked quietly, even though the answer was there in my eyes.

I gave her a weak, tired smile and closed my eyes. "He left. He's gone."

I didn't have to say anything after that. Warm arms wrapped around me, and for the hundredth time during the course of a few days, there were hot, burning tears in my eyes.

I told Rosalie everything. I told her about Esme, about the divorce that had taken place years ago. I told her about my conversation with Edward, and I told her about the little girl with blue eyes and dark hair. And I told her about Carlisle, about our discussion in my kitchen. I told her how Alice had been the invisible focal point of the conversation, regardless of the fact that her name had never even been mentioned.

Then, I told her about my love confession. And I told her about Carlisle's reaction – or the lack thereof – and she shook her head, squeezing my hand and replacing the empty hot chocolate mug in my hand with a full one. Rosalie and her hot beverages. She firmly believed that chocolate in all its forms was the best cure for heartaches.

"Alright," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and giving me a questioning look, cocking one delicate eyebrow. Her expression was fierce. "Do you want me to send Emmett after him?"

I gave a soft, sad laugh. "No."

"Okay. I can go myself. I'd be happy to."

I shook my head and smiled sadly. "I appreciate it, but...it's alright. It's not like he did anything wrong. In fact, I kind of feel like..." I sighed and trailed off.

"Like you're the one to blame?" Rosalie supplied, narrowing her eyes. "That's crazy. Where's your self-esteem?"

"I still have it, I hope. What I meant was, I'm the one who developed feelings for him when I shouldn't have. I mean, it wasn't part of our deal, now was it? I was the one who proposed this whole thing, after all. I said it didn't have to go anywhere, and I gave him the impression I was fine with it. But then, I began to have expectations, even though I knew I had no right to have those."

"You're only human, Bella. You can't help your feelings."

"I know that. But you were right all along. I should've talked to him about this much earlier, and I should've put an end to our relationship, since I knew it'd never go anywhere. Since I knew he couldn't give me anything...more."

"He's not completely innocent when it comes to this, you know. He misled you. He gave you mixed signals. He also gave you that necklace and said a lot of things that got your hopes up and made you believe that, maybe he wanted something more, too."

I shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe I was just seeing things that weren't there. Anyway, you were right when you said I'm not good at casual. And you were right about something else, too. Maybe I was secretly hoping I could fix him. That I could make things better."

Rosalie pursed her lips in a pondering manner, leaning back on the couch. "He could've told you. About his daughter, that she died."

I shook my head and sighed. "I don't think he could've. Edward said...he said he's never heard Carlisle even speak Alice's name after she died. That's how much it hurts him to talk about her. Edward said the only person Carlisle can talk to about her is Esme. Apparently, even therapy didn't help him. It only made him worse." I stared down at my mug.

"You're still worried about him," Rosalie stated softly.

I sighed. "I guess. Even though he might not feel about me like I feel about him, it doesn't change the fact that I just want him to...be alright someday. I think fourteen years is a long time to feel guilty. I'm sure it's hard enough, trying to get over the death of his child and deal with his grief, but to feel like he's responsible for her death as well?" I shook my head. "I wonder...if he hadn't been a doctor at the time, when the accident happened..."

"Would he feel less guilty that he couldn't save her?" Rosalie finished for me. "Maybe...or maybe not. He probably feels like he failed as a father as well."

I nodded. "Edward said something like that. He also said Carlisle has a twisted sense of responsibility. I kind of see what he means. He blames himself for everything. He seems to think the divorce was his fault as well."

"Why is that?"

I shrugged. "Apparently, he... Well, he obviously didn't cope with Alice's death well. He said he wasn't there for Esme when she needed him."

Rosalie's eyes were sad. "I'm sure it must've been hard for her. But things like this...they either bring people closer or tear them apart. Sometimes, there's nothing anyone can do about it." She hesitated, giving me a curious glance. "I've been wondering...why did Carlisle's brother tell you all this? That Carlisle has a dead daughter? He doesn't even know you. Why share something so personal with someone he's only met twice? You're not _that_ loveable," she teased me, making me roll my eyes.

"Gee, thanks." A small grin pulled at my lips, and I realized it was the first time in days I'd smiled. But then, I sobered, and I tried to think of a way to answer her question without feeling like I wanted to tear my heart out.

"I asked him that myself. Edward...well, he seemed to think telling me would be...worth it. That it might change things. He seemed to think – or maybe he was just hoping, like I was – that Carlisle wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. He thought, if all those things about his past were out in the open, it'd make it easier for him to start an actual relationship with me. That, if I learned about the things that trouble him, we could give it a real shot this time. Edward just wanted Carlisle's loneliness to end. He wanted to see him happy."

"Oh." She hesitated. "You know, I'm not sure if I would've had the guts to interfere like that. I'm kind of mad at his brother now, too. It was a bit risky to go telling you he believed Carlisle wanted to have something more. He got your hopes up, and that's wrong. I mean, you can't really go making people promises like that."

"It's not like he gave me guarantees or promises," I disagreed lightly. "And...well, he seemed very sure of himself, and he said he knows Carlisle better than anyone. I know he meant well by doing what he did. He seems like a sweet man. And an honest one. He warned me about Carlisle's limitations. He said that, if I wanted to stay with his brother, I'd have to kiss the thought of having children goodbye. He said becoming a father again is pretty much Carlisle's worst fear."

"Wow. Talk about commitment issues."

"It's not a commitment issue, not really," I explained. "He's just...afraid. He's afraid that, if he cares too much, he'll lose someone important again. That he'll _fail_ someone important again. Like he failed Alice...and later Esme."

Rosalie shook her head, smiling sadly. "Well, I think the term 'twisted sense of responsibility' is definitely too mild." She paused, giving me a close look. "Did you consider it, then? What it'd be like, if you knew you'd have to give up having children?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. I...I still don't know how to feel about the whole thing. I'm sure starting a family is very important to some people," I flicked her a meaningful look, and she grinned, "but I've never believed having children is absolutely necessary for a happy and complete life. I've always believed those things came along in life when the time is right. And if they don't..." I trailed off and shrugged. "Well, then they don't. It's kind of like if someone comes and asks you if you someday want to get a cat. How are you supposed to know if you someday want a cat? Even if you don't want it today, maybe you'll want one in ten years."

Rosalie narrowed her eyes. "You're comparing having a child to getting a _cat?"_

"No. That's not what I meant," I answered, rolling my eyes. "And what's wrong with cats, anyway? They're awesome. They just sleep and eat, and they don't give a crap about anything or anyone. They're probably the smartest creatures on this planet.

"But anyway, what I tried to say is that, having children is just one choice among hundreds of others. And sometimes, having them or not having them is _not_ a choice. For some people, the thought of becoming a parent is the most important thing in life, but sometimes, it happens that having children proves to be impossible. Or...it's been taken away from you some other way."

I bit my lip and thought of sad, blue eyes. "My point is...while it's good to think about these things and sometimes even plan them beforehand if you can, it's also important to accept the fact that life isn't a script. You shouldn't take anything for granted. You should never plan too much. You should never say never."

Rosalie nodded. "I agree. That's exactly right. You _should_ never say never. That's why...well, that's why I kind of understand why Carlisle made the decision to leave. As much as I hate it that he hurt you like that, I can also see where he's coming from. Kind of. Because, if you're at least a bit uncertain about whether you want to have children, sharing a life with someone who _definitely_ doesn't want to have any...it could lead to a lot of regret and bitterness later. Maybe he wanted to protect you from those feelings."

I shrugged, staring at the rug on the floor. "I guess. It's just that..." I swallowed hard. "It would've been nice to have a say in the matter, you know? If he can make a huge decision like that for himself, I have the same right."

Rosalie regarded me carefully for a minute. "Are you saying that, if given the chance, you would've wanted to stay with him?"

I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly. "I just would've liked to have had a choice, instead of having him walk out my door like that. But...what I wanted, or what I want now, is kind of irrelevant. I mean, I still don't know if he left because he wanted to spare me from a difficult choice and possible feelings of regret, or did he leave because..."

I let out a sigh, opening my eyes. It was a moment before I continued, and when I did, I struggled to keep my voice steady. "When I told him I was in love with him…and when he answered me without using any words at all…well, it seems impossible that silence can hurt more than words, but it can," I gave a joyless, quiet laugh.

There was a book on my coffee table, and I stared at it. It was Carlisle's book – I'd borrowed it from him weeks ago. It had been sitting there on my coffee table for these past days, and I still couldn't bring myself to move it. I couldn't even bring myself to _touch_ it. Therefore, the thought of picking it up, climbing into my truck and driving past his house to drop it in his mailbox was...insurmountable. It was just a book, and yet, it seemed to represent everything I felt at that moment. It was just a book, and yet, it was driving me crazy with its mere presence. It was just a book, and yet...and yet, seeing it brought me some strange comfort.

Rosalie's voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I forced my eyes away from the book.

"Want to do something tomorrow night?" she asked, and I was grateful she had changed the subject. "Emmett's having a boys' night out with his friends. You should come over. We'll order pizza and watch a good movie. Nothing romantic if you don't want."

I gave her a wan smile. "Thanks, but I have a double shift at the café."

Rosalie pursed up her lips. There was something like concern in her eyes. "Let me guess. You've done a lot of those during the past days?"

I shrugged. "I just...I can't stay here. It's so quiet." Letting out a slow breath, I stared at the book on the coffee table again.

"I know. But I don't want you to work yourself to exhaustion. If staying here feels hard, you get up and leave. Come visit me at the salon, or you could come spend a few nights at our place. I think Emmett's company would do you some good. And a bottle of whiskey."

Her attempts to cheer me up weren't fruitful. Her words made me remember my conversation with Edward, how he had told me about finding Carlisle with an empty bottle of whiskey and sleeping pills all those years ago.

I hadn't told Rosalie about that. It had happened a long time ago, and the matter was just too delicate and personal to share.

I tried to give her a small smile and recall what she'd said a moment ago. "Emmett does have a certain way to look at the world and make you feel better, no matter what the situation. I think whiskey is a bad idea, though." I paused, sipping my hot chocolate, before it would go cold. "But anyway. You don't have to worry about me, okay? I'll be fine...eventually. I just have to remember what my post break-up routine includes, and I'll be fine. I've done this before."

Rosalie's eyes were sympathetic. "You mean...after James?"

I shook my head. "No. I, uh...I mean that I've gone through this process with Carlisle once before, in a way. Just after I met him, after I gave him my number, and he didn't call me. Of course, it's not the same thing now, since I know exactly what I've lost, but...I think it's very ironic, but also somehow fitting, that I had to pick up the pieces of myself, that I had to get over him, in a way, before I'd even learned to know him. Before we'd even shared a single kiss. Before we'd even started." I swallowed. "I just wish I'd known it was a prelude of what was to come."

"And if you _had_ known?" she asked quietly. "Would you have gone through with it, anyway? Would you have chosen to be with him, regardless of how it ended?"

I had to think about that. Would I give up these past few months? I wanted to think I was grateful I'd had this short time with him, but there was still too much hurt. The pain was still too fresh; there was no space for gratitude inside me yet.

I also realized something about Rosalie's question bothered me, and it took me a moment to understand what it was.

"That's the thing," I murmured eventually. "When he walked out last week, I felt like the whole world ended right then and there. But, at the same time...I felt like nothing ended. How can you put an end to something that didn't even have a real chance to start? How can you get over someone, or say goodbye to someone, who was never truly yours? It's like..."

I paused and swallowed, wiping a hand across my eyes, as my vision blurred. "It's like...there's no word for this feeling. It's not pain, and it's not hurt, and it's not disappointment...but at the same time, it's all those three. How do you deal with that? With something you can't even describe?"

Rosalie took the mug from my hand and placed it on the coffee table. Then, she wrapped me in a tight hug, her hand rubbing my back in soothing circles.

"I don't know, Bella," she answered. "Maybe you'll just have to take it one emotion at a time, instead of trying to deal with all of them at once."

"And what if even that feels like it's too much?" I asked, sniffling.

"Of course it feels like that. Maybe it's _supposed_ to feel like that. But you'll get through it. It may take time, but important things always take time. You didn't fall in love with him overnight, and you won't stop feeling sad overnight. Give yourself time, and let your feelings run their course. _All_ of them." She paused and pulled back, nodding toward the coffee table. "Is that his book?"

I nodded. "How did you know?"

"From the way you're looking at it. Here's an idea. When you've moved past hurt and pain and sadness, and when anger and fury step into their place, you come to me with that book. I have very sharp scissors, and I'm sure Emmett has darts we can borrow," she raised an eyebrow, smiling.

I wasn't sure if she was serious or not. Wiping away my tears, I gave a soft laugh. "I'm not going to destroy his book. That's just...immature. And it's a _book_. I love books. I don't want to hurt them."

"You know, Bella...it's not healthy to give emotions to inanimate objects."

"Yeah, I guess not. But I'm not destroying it. When anger and fury take over, I can come and visit Emmett's punching bag instead."

Rosalie smiled, giving me one more tight embrace. "Deal."

Later that night, after she had left, I found myself standing next to the coffee table, staring at the book. After a moment of hesitation, I picked it up. I had never finished reading it. I flipped through it and opened it at the bookmark, removing it from between the pages, deciding to leave the book unfinished, just like _we_ were left unfinished.

Then, I closed the book again with a sigh and took it to the kitchen counter, thinking that maybe it would eventually make its way into my truck. That maybe I'd have the strength to drive past Carlisle's house one day and leave it in his mailbox. It was just a book, after all. Just a story left unread. Just like our story.

Or maybe not. It was impossible to read something that never got written, after all.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Bella putting the key in the freezer is a reference to a TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (season 3, episode 13). Joey's reading The Shining, and he puts the book in the freezer, because he finds it too scary. Very logical._

 _Bella's obviously not very happy in this chapter, but I didn't want her to go all "New Moon" after Carlisle left and stop living, like she did after Edward left her._

 _Thank you for your reviews. As always, I appreciate them more than words can describe. I'll see you in a few days._


	21. The Moon And The Tide

_**"We are sun and moon, dear friend; we are sea and land.**_

 _ **It is not our purpose to become each other; it is to recognize each other,**_

 _ **to learn to see the other and honor him for what he is:**_

 _ **each the other's opposite and complement."**_

\- Hermann Hesse -

* * *

 **The Moon and The Tide**

"What was his name?"

Sammy's voice was careful, but curious. I gave her a quick glance, trying to keep my expression neutral, as I continued to fill the coffee machine. "What makes you ask that?"

She shrugged, adjusting her apron. "Nothing. It's just that...well, you've stopped smiling. And also...I can sort of recognize a broken heart. Takes one to know one."

I glanced at her again, frowning. "What do you mean?"

She gave me a sad smile. "My boyfriend broke up with me two days ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

She shrugged again. "I'm sorry, too. But, you know, these things happen." She turned to look across the café, nodding toward a young man standing next to a table and taking an order from a customer; the guy was our new waiter. He'd started two days ago, replacing one of the part-time waitresses.

"So," Sammy said, giving me a small smile. "You or me?"

"You or me, what?"

"Come on, Bella. If you don't ask him out, I will."

I gave a soft laugh and shook my head, turning my back to the coffee machine and wetting a rag. "First of all, we're working. Second of all, finding a rebound doesn't solve anything, and they usually mess you up even more. And third...do you really want to get involved with someone you work with?"

She rolled her eyes. "You think way too much. And also, you're way too sensible and prudent. Actually, I sometimes find it hard to believe you're only twenty-five. Sometimes, you seem like you're _at least_ forty-five. Mentally."

I gave her a sad smile and began to wipe the counter clean, not bothering to explain why her comment made me a bit sorrowful. I nodded toward the new waiter – his name was Josh, if I remembered correctly – and flicked Sammy another glance.

"By all means, go for it. But if you just broke up with your boyfriend two days ago, I'd wait for the emotional roller coaster to come to a stop first."

She shrugged. "It already stopped. In fact…well, there's a part of me that feels a little broken-hearted, but to be entirely honest, I'm not sure if there was any awful roller coaster ride in the first place."

I frowned. "Really? How long were you two together?"

"About a year. I know, you think I'm weird. A year is a long time to be with someone, and I shouldn't be over him after just two days. But to be honest...I only feel relief now. Our thing was over a long time before either of us even brought up that we should part ways. Our relationship was...unhealthy. It wasn't going anywhere, and we both knew it. We wanted different things, and you should never be with someone who wants different things than you. If you're going to share your life with someone, there has to be something that binds you together. You can't build a bridge over a chasm, if you don't have anything to build with."

I sighed and put away the rag. "I know." _A little too well._

After washing my hands, I grabbed a tray and went to collect empty cups from the tables, wanting to get away from her words. They were too honest, her words. Too true. They opened a deep wound inside me, a wound that had slowly – too slowly – begun to close. It hadn't done it by itself. I'd had to force it closed, and I knew I didn't have the strength to do it again.

I also knew I shouldn't be counting the days...but I was. It had been seventeen days since he had left. Seventeen days, and it felt like a year.

I spent the rest of my shift trying to ignore the way Sammy was watching the new waiter, trying to ignore the way he reacted when he noticed it. I tried not to listen to their innocent, light flirting as the hours passed on, tried not to see how Josh grinned at her when she made a not-so-innocent comment about men wearing aprons. When closing time eventually came, I let out a sigh of relief.

After bidding them goodnight, glad I would no longer have to witness their budding affection for each other – at least not tonight – I made my way to the parking lot. I threw a glance over my shoulder, noticing Sammy and Josh were heading to the small pub across the street. I saw Josh smile and open the door for her like a real gentleman, but the moment was kind of ruined, when a group of three men poured out of the pub, all of them laughing loudly.

Sighing quietly, I headed toward my truck, about to take out my keys when a loud, drunken voice shouted out, "Hey! Sweetheart!"

I stopped at the sound of his familiar voice, whirling around in shock and surprise.

The three men who'd just come out of the pub were making their way across the street. As they passed a lamp post, and I saw them more clearly, I got confirmation that I hadn't been imagining things just now. It _was_ him. If he hadn't called out my name like that, I probably wouldn't have recognized him.

He'd cut his hair. It used to be shoulder-length – he'd always worn it in a neat ponytail – but now, his brown hair was cropped short.

"James." His name came out as a tired sigh. I shook my head and turned away, determined to get to my truck before he'd reach me. I hadn't seen him in months – what was he _doing_ here? Had he been waiting for me? Was that why he had been hanging out in that pub? He knew where I worked, after all.

"Hey! Hey, Bella! Wait up! Come on, Bells!"

I heard quick, slightly uneven steps behind me, and I threw a glance over my shoulder.

"What do you want?" I asked, refusing to stop.

Apparently, James had other ideas. As I felt him grab my arm, I whirled around, sparing a quick glance at his two friends, who were hanging back and grinning stupidly. It was obvious they'd had a couple of beers as well, but they seemed more lucid than James.

"What do you want?" I asked again, relieved when he let go of my arm. "Just spit it out and quit wasting my time."

"Aw, come on," he slurred. I had to take a step back and wrinkle my nose; his breath smelled like vodka. "I just saw you come out of the café, and I thought I'd say hi."

"Okay. Hi. And now, _goodbye_." Without waiting for his answer, I turned around and took out my keys.

"Hey, don't be so rude! What did I do to deserve that?"

His two friends began to chuckle quietly, and I started to get pissed off. "I'm not being rude. And if you have no idea what you did to deserve my foul mood, I can't help you. Look, I have to be somewhere, and you have to go home. You're drunk."

It looked like he had trouble focusing his eyes. "Yeah, well...maybe a bit, but...hey, come on, Bella. I missed you." He grabbed my wrist tightly. This time, he didn't let go.

"James–" I began, trying to twist out of his grip.

"Bella, come on. Give us a ride. Or better yet; can I come over? I miss you. I've told my friends things about you...in fact, I've told them _so_ _much_ about you that they know you as well as I know you, if you know what I mean."

He tightened his hold on my wrist and pulled me closer, and I tried to shove him away as he leaned in to kiss me roughly. As soon as his lips released mine, I tried to push him away from me, but he tightened his hold around my wrist, grabbing my shoulder with his other hand. Even as drunk as he was, he was a lot stronger than me, not to mention a lot taller.

"Let go of me. Now," I said slowly. I barely heard my own voice - I was so furious that my ears were ringing.

"Aw, come on, babe. Don't you miss me at all? Just admit it. I know you miss me...I'm sure I was the best lay you've ever had..."

"Shut up, and don't you ever kiss me again," I spat. "You've crossed the line. Now, _let go of me_." My voice trembled, not from fear but anger. Maybe I was getting a little nervous, too; it was getting late, and there was no one around. Just my luck.

His friends began to laugh again; apparently, my irritation amused them. I tried to step away from James, moving quickly in the hopes of beating his slowed reflexes, but his hold on me was too tight. As he pulled me closer again, his grip becoming painful, I began to see red. As he pressed his mouth to mine again, I stepped on his toes – hard – and pushed at his chest. My heart was beating in my chest so hard, I almost couldn't hear anything else.

James toppled back and fell on his behind, cursing.

"Son of a bitch. Damn it," he mumbled.

His two friends stopped laughing.

Breathing hard, I turned around and squeezed the keys in my hand. I began to walk briskly, berating myself for not parking any closer to the door when I'd arrived for my shift a few hours ago.

"Hey! Don't walk away from me like that! Look what you did!"

"You asked for it," I threw over my shoulder and walked faster, almost running now.

Maybe my words angered him, or maybe he felt humiliated after falling on his butt in front on his friends. Or maybe he was too drunk to realize what he was doing, or maybe he was just that much of an asshole. Whatever the reason was, he got up – surprisingly fast, given his drunken state – and closed the distance between us with a few long strides.

"I said," he growled, as he grabbed my wrist again, "don't walk away from me like that!" He squeezed my wrist so hard I could actually _feel_ the blood stop flowing. I gasped in pain and dropped my keys. James pulled me back against him, his other hand grasping my collar.

"Oh, come on, James, calm down now," one of his friends said, his voice appeasing.

"I don't think so," he slurred, reeling slightly and trying to focus his eyes on my face.

"James, don't be an idiot. Let go of me," I hissed, trying to twist myself free and preparing to knee him between his legs. I was about to do just that, but then...

"Hey!"

I couldn't recognize the feeling that washed over me as I heard the voice, and I didn't really have time to give a name to it. A second passed, and a hand appeared on James' shoulder, and another second later, I suddenly realized all I could see was the back of someone's coat.

"Didn't you hear the lady?" Carlisle's voice was dangerously soft.

"Who the hell are you?" James roared, and I realized he was picking himself up from the ground for the second time in less than one minute.

Letting out a quick breath, I touched Carlisle's arm and tried to step past him, but he caught my elbow and stopped me. I noticed there was a silver BMW parked a few yards away, and I saw Edward climb out of the driver's side, leaving the engine running.

"James, just go," I told him, when he was back on his feet again. His two friends had come closer, one of them grabbing his arm and supporting him as he staggered.

Maybe I shouldn't have said his name, but I realized my mistake too late. Carlisle's eyes flashed dangerously.

"You're James?" he asked, his voice still incredibly soft and pleasant. A chill ran up my spine.

"Carlisle, just leave it. He's drunk," I murmured, and now it was _me_ holding _his_ arm and stopping him from taking a step forward.

" _Carlisle_? What kind of a name is that?" James said tauntingly and snorted loudly. "And who the hell _are_ you? This is none of your business. Can't you see we're in the middle of something? Why don't you just fuck off!"

"I don't think so. And if you ever come near Bella again, you'll regret it. That I can promise you."

James snorted again and wriggled free from his friend's grasp, taking an unsteady step forward. "Oh? You think so? Well, you sure look like a tough guy."

I didn't see Carlisle's expression, but I assumed something in his face changed, since James' other friend came up to him now, too. His voice was nervous. "Come on, James, let's just go."

James ignored him and flicked me a look. "Don't tell me this is your boyfriend or something. Since when have you been into blonds? And what, are you picking up men from retirement homes now?"

"Easy now." During the exchange, Edward had sauntered closer; I'd almost forgotten he was there. He stopped close to James and his two goons, smiling softly. When he spoke, his voice was light and slightly amused. "My brother is a nice guy, but you know what they say. Even nice guys have their limits. Actually, the nicest guys make the scariest assholes. Ever heard that? And he also used to be a doctor, by the way. So, I guess he could fix you up, after he's through with you, but..."

He paused, pretending to consider. "Well, under the circumstances, I think he might go for the other choice. Let's just say that, if something...bad...were to happen to you, well, he'd sure know how to make it look like an accident. Doctors are interesting that way."

James' two friends began to look unsettled. James was still too drunk – or too much of an idiot – to back down. He looked from Carlisle to me, his eyes full of resentment and also something far deeper. "You should know better than to mess with me," he said in a low voice.

"Mess with you?" I asked. "Excuse me, but I wasn't the one sitting outside of your workplace and waiting for you like some messed up creep."

"You walked out on me!"

"Yeah, I did. And I'm still thanking myself for _that_ decision. Do you have any idea why?"

James took a step forward. Carlisle took two. When he spoke, his voice was still perfectly smooth and calm, but there was a chilling edge to it.

"You have five seconds to leave," he said softly. "My brother here seems to be under the impression that I'm responsible enough to... _clean up..._ after making a mess, but...sometimes I can be a little sloppy. No one's perfect, right?"

James' two friends began to mumble nervously.

"James..."

"Come on, man, let's just go..."

James' eyes were slightly unfocused as he looked from Carlisle to me. He opened his mouth to say something again, but Carlisle's soft voice interrupted him.

"One," he began to count quietly. "Two..."

Edward chuckled. "You'd better run, boys."

"Come on, James..." James' buddies took him by his arms and began to drag him away, ignoring his loud, drunken protests. Carlisle didn't turn around, until they'd crossed the street and staggered their way back inside the pub.

It took me a while to realize I was shivering. I wrapped my arms around myself, avoiding Carlisle's eyes, as he turned around and closed the short distance between us.

"Are you alright?" he asked, touching my chin.

I just nodded, giving Edward a glance. He wasn't looking at me – his eyes were on his brother.

"I'm going to head home now," Edward said, nodding toward his car.

Carlisle nodded, sighing quietly. "Thank you, Edward."

"No problem." He flicked me a glance, before looking at Carlisle again, giving him a strict stare. "Don't mess it up this time, alright? I _mean_ it. I'll have your ass if you do. If there's anything left of you, that is, since Esme will probably beat me to it."

Carlisle just nodded. Edward went to his car and got in. Soon, the soft humming of the car's engine was gone, and then, it was way too quiet.

Carlisle bent down to pick up my keys from the ground. Instead of giving them to me, he put them in the pocket of his slacks. Then, he took off his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders.

"Carlisle, I'm fine..." I protested wearily.

"You're trembling."

I shook my head, avoiding his eyes. "It's just the adrenaline. I'm alright."

"Did he hurt you?"

When I didn't look at him, he touched a finger to my chin, tilting my face up to his. There was a lot going on in his eyes, I noticed. The look in them was kind and concerned, but also worried and a bit angry. I had a feeling all he wanted to do was cross the street and drag James out of the pub.

I shook my head, suddenly tired. "I'm fine. He just grabbed me, that's all."

" _Is_ that all?"

I blew out a breath. "Look, why do you even care? Fine, he kissed me as well, but I managed to push him away."

He nodded. "Yes, I saw that. And as for why I care..." He paused, swallowing. "I understand why you feel the need to question it, but I do care, Bella. Of course, I do."

"What are you even doing here?"

"I was looking for you. We went to your apartment, but since you weren't home, I figured you were working a late shift."

"But _why_ are you here? And why was Edward with you?"

Carlisle ran a hand through his hair, hesitating. "Let me drive you home, and I'll explain. You're freezing." He wrapped his coat more tightly around me, and then he put a hand on my shoulder and began to guide me towards my truck.

"Give me my keys," I told him, fisting my hands to keep them from trembling. "I can drive myself. Get yourself a cab."

"Please, Bella. Let me take you home."

"Look, I'm tired of this. I'm not putting up with this anymore." I stopped and faced him. "Do you have any idea how hard I've been working to forget you? Look, I appreciate that you came to help me just now, but...you can't just appear out of the blue like this and start making demands. You have no right to do that. I don't owe you anything."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "I know," he said quietly. "And you're right. You don't owe me anything. You really don't. But...please, just humor me, Bella. This one last time. I realize I don't deserve it, but..." He swallowed thickly. "All I ask is just a few minutes with you. I know very well I have no right to ask anything from you, but..." He shook his head and sighed again. "Just let me drive you home. Please."

Too tired to protest, I sighed and went to the passenger side, waiting as Carlisle unlocked the doors. After helping me inside, he rounded the truck and got in.

"You're not going to like driving this old hunk of metal," I grumbled, trying to keep the hostility out of my voice. "The clutch is a nightmare. If you're used to your fancy car–"

"My first car was a pickup truck, and let's just say it wasn't the newest model. I'll be fine." His voice was almost amused. He started the engine and turned on the heater, giving me another worried glance.

I stayed silent, as he pulled out of the parking lot of the café, still a little too shocked about the fact that he was here. That I was sitting in my truck with him. I didn't know how to feel about that. My heart was running in my chest, like it was trying to tell me I should be as happy and delighted as it was, but my mind was slamming on the breaks, wanting to remind me why he had left. And _how_ he had left.

I stared out the window as we drove to my apartment, making sure not to look at him; I didn't want to give him a reason to start small talk. His coat around me was warm and smelled like him, and I had to catch myself, when I noticed I was breathing in deeply to draw in his calming scent. I wondered if he noticed. Luckily, it was dark.

The short drive to my apartment seemed longer than usual; maybe it was the silence. As we finally arrived in the parking lot, I turned to give Carlisle a glance, and I was torn between relief and frustration, because I couldn't see his face. He let out a quiet sigh after he'd cut the engine, and I expected him to say something, but he just sat still, staying completely silent.

"So," I began, when it seemed like he wasn't going to start the conversation. "What did you want to say?"

Instead of answering, he got out of the truck and rounded it, opening the passenger door. It was my turn to sigh; apparently, he'd decided to do this indoors, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for that. Letting him inside meant I'd have to take the risk of seeing him walk out again.

I didn't have a choice, though. Despite wearing two coats, both my own and his, I was still cold, I was tired, my wrist was bruised and aching, and I just wanted to sleep. And if he was here just to clear his conscience, then I wanted this to be over as fast as possible.

He followed me wordlessly, as I went to the door of my apartment, and as soon as I was inside, I shed off his coat and gave it back to him without looking at his face. Taking off my own coat and tossing it over a chair, I turned on some lights in the kitchen and living room, hearing Carlisle trail behind me. Still not speaking. Silence was never a good sign, and it began to bother me a bit.

I turned to face him, yet still avoiding his eyes, absently rubbing my wrist. He noticed it. I could feel his gaze studying me intently as he took my arm and peeled up the sleeve of my sweater. My wrist was swelling, and the skin looked a bit irritated.

"You said he grabbed you?" Carlisle asked quietly.

"It's nothing," I answered. "My wrist is a bit sore, but it's not like it's broken or anything. I'll be fine."

"Can you make a fist for me, please?"

Sighing, I did as he asked, and I stifled the urge to roll my eyes when he asked me to wiggle my fingers. He probed my wrist gently, and I knew even without looking at him that he was staring at my face, looking for signs of discomfort.

"It'll definitely bruise," he murmured after a while, putting a hand on my shoulder and steering me toward the couch. After I'd sat down, he turned around and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard the door of the fridge open; apparently, he'd come to notice during the past weeks that I always kept a gel pack on the top shelf. The fact that he remembered a small detail like that made my heart catch. Ache.

Burn.

He came back a moment later and sat down next to me, gently wrapping the gel pack around my wrist.

"How does that feel?" he asked.

I stared at coffee table, refusing to look at him. "Cold."

He gave a small, dry laugh. I flicked him a glance, but I didn't meet his eyes.

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" I asked again. My voice sounded emotionless, even in my own ears. "Why did you want to see me?"

I heard him let out a sigh, and he released my wrist. I adjusted the gel pack, feeling like I needed something to do with my hands.

"I wanted to...apologize," he answered slowly, his voice strangely tired.

"For what?"

"For a lot of things. The last time I spoke to you...how I behaved was disrespectful, and I was wrong about some of the things I said. And I wanted to tell you that...you were right about the things _you_ said. The way I left..." I saw him shake his head from the corner of my eye. "It was...inexcusable."

"I'm sure you had your reasons," I murmured, my voice still distant.

"I did, or at least I thought I did. For days, I tried to convince myself that leaving was the right thing. The right decision." He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head again. "But...I couldn't do that. Convince myself. I just couldn't keep...lying to myself. For the first time in years, it wasn't the nightmares that kept me awake. It was _you_."

I closed my eyes momentarily, torn between fear and something else. Something like...hope.

"I lay awake at night, because I couldn't stop thinking about you," he continued quietly. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about the mistake I made, when I...when I walked out like that. You have no idea how many miles I've walked in the dead of night, thinking about you. About the things you said. No matter how much it scared me, I began to think things over. And then...well, then Edward and Esme heard what happened. What I did. And they just wouldn't leave me alone after that."

I gave him a glance, raising my eyebrows. "Esme knows about me?"

Carlisle nodded. "Of course. She saw you that one day, when you saw us at the diner. Actually, she knew about you long before that. She was the first person I told about you."

I didn't know what he meant by that, or what he _wanted_ to mean by that. I also didn't know what to think about his words. What to feel. Something else was bothering me as well, and I glanced down at my hands in my lap, swallowing thickly.

"So, you came to see me, because Edward and Esme made you? What, did they blackmail you or something?" I gave a cool, joyless laugh. "Did Edward have to force you into his car tonight?"

He shook his head, and he tried to meet my eyes, but I didn't let him. "Jesus. That's not what I meant, Bella. What I tried to say was...they would've made me see reason, unless I hadn't managed to see it myself. They would've forced me to acknowledge something I already knew, as simple as that. Something I've known all along. They confronted me about things, just like you confronted me seventeen days ago. They helped me see clearly, but eventually, it was my decision, and my decision alone, to come and see you. Not theirs."

My heart leapt at his words; I wasn't the only one counting days, it seemed to say. I tried to calm down, ignoring my heart's insistent pounding and its soundless whispers, and kept my eyes on my lap. "But...if they hadn't talked you into coming to see me tonight, would you have come to see me at all?"

"They didn't talk me into anything, Bella. That's what I'm trying to tell you. They let me have it, of course – I've never seen either of them so furious. But it wasn't their intervention that made me reconsider and realize I'd made a mistake. And Edward...he just happened to come by tonight, and I told him I was planning on going to see you." He gave a quiet, joyless laugh and glanced down at the floor. "He gave me a ride - maybe to make sure I wouldn't chicken out or start making up excuses on my way to you."

"Were you tempted?" I asked. "To make excuses?"

I heard him sigh. "I'll be honest with you, because honesty is something you deserve after all those things I've kept from you. Because honesty is something you deserved all along, and I failed you when it came to that.

"There was a part of me that wanted to make excuses. To say this would never work out, even if, by some miracle, you forgave me for what I did. There was a part of me that didn't want to admit, to accept...that I was wrong about some of the things I said. And if I'd listened to that part...if I'd believed my own excuses, by the time I would've realized my own stupidity, it might've been too late. And I didn't want that. I _don't_ want that, Bella. I'm sorry about what I said. I can't demand that you forgive me, but I want you to know I'm sorry. I said things that were wrong, I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry."

I nodded, licking my lips. "Okay. I appreciate that you came to say that." I let out a long breath, still avoiding his eyes. "And it's okay. You don't have to feel bad about anything."

"That's not true."

"Look, Carlisle–"

I didn't get the chance to finish. A warm hand was suddenly cupping my jaw, and he turned my head to face him. He framed my cheeks with his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. They were like churning waters, his eyes, like endless skies and an ocean full of waves at high noon.

"What are you doing?" I asked, torn between wanting to pull away and staying right there.

His breath left his body in one hard rush. "What am I doing? I'm forcing you to _look at me_ , that's what I'm doing," His voice was low and hushed, just an urgent whisper. "I want you to look at me when I apologize. I want to be able to see your eyes, when I say I'm sorry. Not because you owe me that – you don't owe me a single thing – but because _I_ owe you that. _You_ deserve to have _me_ look you in the eye, when I say I'm sorry. That I made a mistake. I shouldn't have left, Bella, and I'm sorry. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I know some of the things I said insulted you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry about so many things..." His voice caught, and he blinked and swallowed, shaking his head.

I covered his hands with my own; the gel pack slipped from my wrist and fell, but I barely noticed. "It's alright," I answered softly. "You don't have to feel bad about anything."

He shook his head again. "I'm sorry about some other thing as well," he murmured. He closed his eyes momentarily, before opening them again and looking at me. "When you said...that I never had to be a whole person...for you to fall in love with me...I'm sorry I didn't want to believe you. I'm sorry I didn't say what I wanted to say. I'm sorry I didn't realize that _I_ never needed to be a whole person...to fall in love with _you_."

My breath caught in my throat, and all I could do was just stare at him. He continued to speak, and I was so bewildered, I had to force myself to focus on his next words.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was afraid, Bella, and I still am." He kept one hand on the side on my face, cupping my cheek, and then he took my hand with his free one and brought it to his chest. I could feel how his heart was beating against my palm; it was like a thundering herd of horses.

"If you're afraid, then...what made you come here?" I asked quietly. "And what makes you stay here now? What makes you...face that fear?"

He smiled sadly, letting go of my hand and framing my face with his hands again. "I've told you before," he answered with a broken, strangled laugh that sounded almost like it might turn into a sob. "You draw me in. You're the moon to my tide. You stay there, in the sky, and I withdraw and come back again, because I can't help it.

"And no matter how many times I draw back, no matter how many times I escape, every time I return, you're still there. And I'm afraid...afraid that someday, you no longer will be. I'm afraid that...if I tell you I love you, my words will make you fall from the sky. _My_ sky. And all I'm left with is an empty horizon, and your invisible gravity that keeps pulling me to you. And...I don't want that. I don't want you to fall from my sky."

I didn't realize there were tears on my face before he brushed them away with his thumbs.

"You love me?" I asked in a broken whisper.

He leaned his forehead against mine. "I do. I love you, Bella. I love you, and it scares me, and that's why I left. I love you, and it thrills me, and that's why I came back. I know saying these things..." I felt him shake his head. "I know a few months is a short time. I know I haven't known you for long." He pulled back to see my face. His other hand stroked my tender wrist.

"All I know is your ex is an incurable idiot," he began, making me give a soft laugh, as I remembered the conversation we'd had that one Sunday weeks and weeks ago. "All I know is you get into all sorts of trouble all the time, like tonight, and that's why I came to meet you in the first place. All I know is you love your mother, and you have her smile. All I know is you drink way too much coffee, and that you talk in your sleep, and that you love books. All I know is you sometimes wear mismatched socks and don't give a damn, and I think it's endearing.

"All I know is, if you happen to find out the man you're seeing has a dead daughter, you go right up to him and fearlessly bring it up, instead of tiptoeing around the subject. All I know is...all I know is you're nothing like me, that you're a whole, intact person, and you're in love with me, in spite of the fact that I'm not whole. And all I know I love you because of all those things."

I couldn't speak; it was like he'd said everything there was to say. But still, my lips kept asking for more. It was like I'd never get enough of his words. "Since when?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know when I first realized it. When I became aware of it. Maybe...maybe it was when you offered to take a walk with me in the middle of the night a few weeks ago. Maybe it was as early as you served me coffee, and I saw you in that little red apron for the first time. Or maybe it was when you were mad at me, and you cursed at me, and then you threw up on your doormat."

That made me laugh a bit, and I wiped a hand across my eyes, brushing away more tears.

"Or maybe it was when I woke up that one day, and I saw you'd made me pancakes, regardless of how I'd treated you the previous night. Or maybe...maybe it was when...when I gave you that necklace." His eyes dropped to my chest, and a small frown crinkled his brow, when he noticed the necklace was gone.

I gave him a sad smile. "I took it off...a few days after you'd left. I couldn't..." I shook my head. "Every time I looked in the mirror, it reminded me of you. That you were gone."

His hand cupped my cheek again. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. You're here now."

He gave me a wary glance. "Where is it now? The necklace? Is it in your bedroom?"

I nodded. "It's in a drawer."

He smiled and got up, pulling me up with him.

"Wait," I said, when he was about to turn and head to the hallway. "It's…it's locked. The drawer."

He smiled confusedly. "And where's the key?" He frowned slightly, narrowing his eyes. "Did you...throw it away or something?"

I chuckled, shaking my head and blushing furiously. "No, um...it's...it's, uh, in the freezer." I kept my eyes on the floor, not looking up. But when it had been completely silent for several seconds, I gave Carlisle a curious glance.

It seemed he was struggling to keep his face straight. Pressing his lips together, he cleared his throat and quirked his eyebrows. "Uh...in the freezer?"

I shrugged and didn't say anything, feeling like all my blood was in my face and ears.

He cleared his throat again. "Well, did it help at all? Putting the key in the freezer?"

"Well, maybe…a bit."

He began to laugh softly, and after a while, it turned into full belly laughter – I'd never heard that before. Smiling widely, I covered my face with my hands, only to have Carlisle remove them. He stroked my hot cheeks with his thumbs, letting out a few more breathless laughs.

"I missed this," he murmured, drawing in a deep breath and smiling like I'd never seen before. He cupped my flaming cheeks; his hands felt cool against my burning skin. " _This_. Your blush."

I rolled my eyes and gave his arm a gentle tug. "Let's get that key. I miss my necklace."

He chuckled and followed me to the kitchen. Still looking like he was trying very hard not to grin, Carlisle went to the freezer and opened it, digging out the drawer key from under a bag of frozen vegetables. Since the key was made of metal – and since it had spent many days in the freezer – it stuck to his warm fingers. I chuckled, as he plucked it away from his skin, hissing quietly.

"I guess I deserved that," he murmured in a dry manner, once he'd managed to shake the frozen key from his fingers, dropping it on the kitchen counter.

"Why don't we give it a minute. Let it melt for a while," I suggested, smiling softly.

"Or we could run warm water over it?"

"Yeah, we could," I answered slowly, sauntering closer to him. "But I think it's better if we let it melt by itself. Some things...they shouldn't be rushed, don't you agree?"

He pretended to consider for a moment, and then he nodded mock-seriously. "You know, I think you're right. Rushing is bad. Very bad."

"Very, _very_ bad," I echoed. Then, I crossed the distance between us with two hasty strides and wrapped my arms around him, assaulting his lips with mine. He sighed against my mouth, and then, his hands clutched my waist and pulled me against him almost demandingly.

Kissing him...it was like listening to your favorite piece of music, after spending endless amounts of time in a soundless, isolated space, or opening your eyes after a lifetime of darkness and loneliness. Kissing him, feeling his body so close to mine…it was like every inch of my skin was coming alive with sensation, like every drop of blood in my veins was leaping and dancing and doing somersaults.

Then, I felt like the rest of my body was doing somersaults as well. Carlisle pulled away from my lips, and the floor disappeared from under me, as he literally swept me off my feet and carried me out of the kitchen.

As he sat me down on my bed a few seconds later, his every move, his every touch, was tender and slow. _Very_ slow. It kind of made me regret my earlier words; I shouldn't have said rushing was bad. Because the truth was, there were situations that required speed and efficiency. Undressing, for instance, was one of those things. It seemed, though, that Carlisle disagreed, and apparently, he had taken my earlier words more than seriously.

He divested me of my clothes like trees shed their leaves. Sweetly, slowly, reverently, his lips running over every angle and curve his hands exposed. He wasn't just undressing me – it was like he'd decided to worship every inch of my body with his eyes, lips and hands. And every time I tried to reciprocate, his hands caught mine and stopped me, as if the mere thought of discontinuing what he was doing was unbearable to him. I kind of wanted to tell him, then, that seeing him fully dressed, while my clothes were disappearing one by one, was unbearable to _me_ , but I had a feeling it would have only made him smile and slow down even more.

By the time he was done, and there wasn't a stitch of clothing on me, I was squirming and gasping. As he placed a soft kiss in the valley between my breasts, his hands palming my hips, I decided I'd had enough. Or not exactly. I _hadn't_ had enough, and that was the problem.

"Carlisle," I groaned, as his tongue circled my nipple. "Not fair..."

He chuckled quietly. His warm breaths caused goosebumps to break over my skin wherever it hit. "What isn't fair, sweetheart?"

"This," I somehow managed to answer, though the clever caress of his tongue and fingers made it kind of hard. My hands found the collar of his shirt and trailed over his chest. " _This._ Too many clothes." My trembling fingers found the buttons of his shirt, and I managed to get one of them undone, when he caught my hands again, pulling them away from his body. " _Carlisle_..."

He just chuckled, nuzzling my nose with his. "Say that again," he said in a low tone that made the heat in the pit of my stomach intensify. "Say my name like that."

It wasn't my intention to obey – not after he'd stopped me from undressing him again. Two could play this game, after all. But my brain was all fuzzy, and the pleasure his mere gaze was giving me was running my lips. "Carlisle," I whispered again. It made him squeeze his eyes shut, like hearing my voice whispering his name like that was more than he could bear. He dropped a hasty kiss on my lips before pulling away.

Holding my gaze, he sat back on his heels, and the breath left my body in a rush,as he began to unbutton his shirt. The feeling that surged through me was more than relief. It was almost like a sense of release, as he slowly uncovered his body, as my eyes finally took in his bare skin. The sight of him undressing himself while I watched...it was so erotic it made my toes curl and my stomach clench. And I decided he did it so much better than me. I was suddenly very glad he'd stopped me earlier, that they were his hands unbuckling his belt and drawing off his clothes, his fingers that were hooking under the elastic band of his boxers. That particular visual stimulus made my skin flush with new heat. He shifted to kick off the garment, and then he sat back on his heels again, smiling softly, as I growled in frustration.

"What's the matter, Bella?" he asked, his hands grasping my ankles and his thumbs rubbing the skin there. A violent shudder went through me.

"You," I moaned. "Are you going to tease me to death? Is that what you're trying to do?"

He chuckled low and deep in a sensual manner. "Of course not. Was there something you wanted? If so, why don't you come and get it yourself?"

He barely got the words out; I sat up so quickly my head spun, and I pushed myself to my knees and crossed the short distance between our bodies. I wrapped an arm behind his neck to bring his lips to mine, while my hand traveled over the soft skin of his chest, down his stomach, until my fingers reached the trail of hair beneath his navel.

He moaned against my mouth when my hand found him, and as I wrapped my fingers around his arousal and gave it a firm, sensual stroke, his quiet moan turned into a strangled cry.

He pulled away from my kiss and leaned his forehead against mine, soft pants and gasps leaving his parted lips. As I ran a thumb over his weeping, swollen head, he hissed and bucked against me. I could actually feel how the muscles of his lower stomach seized, and suddenly, he was wrapping his arms around me, his hands cupping the backs of my thighs and spreading my legs. He pulled me closer, until we were chest to chest, and I was straddling him. After catching my lips in a brief, soft kiss, he pulled away again to look into my eyes, as I positioned myself and lowered myself onto him.

His eyes never left mine, as our bodies slowly entangled into one. I curled my fingers into his soft, golden hair, and he wrapped his arms around me, a sound something between a moan and a sigh escaping his lips, as I rocked myself against him.

"God, Bella," he whispered, before leaning his forehead to mine. "I missed this. I missed _you_."

I pressed a soft kiss on his lips. "What did you miss?"

He ran his hands up and down my back, his breathing heavy. "This. The feel of your body against mine." He groaned, as I moved my hips again in a slow, rocking motion. "And this." He brought his other hand above my left breast, pressing his palm against my skin. "The way your heart races when we're together like this."

I closed my eyes for a short moment, before opening again. "What else?" my question came out as a breathless whisper.

Carlisle wrapped his arms around me tightly and shifted, gently laying me down on the bed, without breaking the intimate connection between our bodies. He took my hand and laced my fingers with his, pressing a soft kiss on the long scar on the inside of my arm.

"This," he answered. "Your skin. Your scars. Every one of them."

My soft chuckle turned into a moan, as he moved against me, hooking an arm behind my knee and bringing him deeper into me.

"You know what?" I managed to say, as he slowly rocked his hips against mine.

"What?" he asked, gazing at me.

"I missed you, too," I said in a hushed, breathless whisper. "Even my scars missed you. Every one of them."

He smiled, and then his lips found mine again. Just like his body had found mine again. Just like...just like his heart had found mine, after seventeen days of hiding. Or had it simply returned to something it had known all along? Was this a rediscovery of something we'd both acknowledged a long time ago, but had feared to admit?

Maybe. All I knew was, I loved him, and he loved me. All I knew was, when he was gone, even my scars missed him. All I knew was, his skin and his body knew mine inside and out, and when the pounding of my heart grew so loud,it seemed to drown out both my moans and his, and when the tight knot in my stomach came undone, that was when his body unraveled as well.

As the tension broke inside us, we collapsed against each other like the waves of a stormy sea, like the tide crashes against the rocks on the shore. Because I was the moon, and he was the tide, and we belonged together, in spite of the fact that the earth was turning and trying to keep us apart.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Edward's line, "Actually, the nicest guys make the scariest assholes," is taken from a Pinterest post I came across some months ago. I'm still not sure who's behind those brilliant words, but the original line went something like this. "Even the nicest people have their limits. Don't try to reach that point, because the nicest people are also the scariest assholes when they've had enough."**_

 _ **I wasn't sure about writing Bella as the damsel in distress once again - I know some people find that frustrating. But then again, that's how B &C came to know each other in this story. She's the incurable trouble magnet...and he just happens to be in the right place at the right time.**_


	22. Another Lifeline

_**"We're all broken.**_

 _ **That's how the light gets in."**_

\- Ernest Hemingway -

* * *

 **Another Lifeline**

"You're not fooling me," Carlisle whispered.

I smiled. Since it was dark, he couldn't see it, but it was in my voice, that smile. "Oh? I'm not?"

"No. You're not. I know you're awake."

I chuckled, remembering a similar conversation from a few weeks back, and eased myself closer to him. "Was my breathing too steady and controlled?"

"Something like that. And...I could hear your brain ticking."

"Sorry. There's a first time for everything, I guess. For once, it's _me_ who's lying awake at night and thinking about things so loudly I wake _you_ up."

He gave a soft laugh. "Yes, I suppose." I felt him shift, and then he reached over me. There was a quiet click, and soon, my bedroom was bathed in golden light. "And what kinds of things were you thinking about?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him, turning onto my side and propping myself up by my elbow. "I was thinking..." I hesitated. "I was thinking about everything that happened tonight. And...well, I was thinking about...James. You weren't really going to beat him up or anything, were you? Edward was just joking, right?"

Carlisle raised his eyebrows, turning onto his side as well and mimicking my posture. "Well, I believe I've told you violence is something I loathe. But I've also told you paying a visit to this ex-boyfriend of yours is rather tempting. And what happened tonight kind of strengthens that...urge." He stroked my cheek gently. "I'm not saying assaulting him would solve anything, not to mention behaving in such a manner would be very immature and uncivilized. But when I saw him grab you, I just..." He shook his head and sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

"Well, I'm obviously glad you and Edward came when you did," I told him. "And I'm obviously not saying James is a saint, but he was very drunk, as I'm sure you noticed. He probably won't even remember his behaviour tomorrow."

Carlisle's eyes took on a dark look. "Being drunk isn't an excuse to...harm someone."

I suddenly realized how my words must have sounded to him. He was probably thinking about the accident. I wondered if he and Esme had ever been able to forgive the drunk driver who was responsible for Alice's death. On the other hand, it was hard to forgive someone who had never had the chance to say sorry. Dead people couldn't apologize.

I touched Carlisle's arm, giving him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. You're right. Being drunk...it's no excuse. Of course, it isn't."

He drew in a deep breath and gave me a look. "What happened tonight...you should report it. Even if James' friends back him up, Edward and I saw what happened. What he did. We can witness, if needed. We should make sure this doesn't happen again."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, you're right. I don't want someone else ending up in the ER, just because I thought that keeping my mouth shut was easier."

Carlisle traced a finger along the scar on my arm. "When _this_ happened," he began, glancing at me, "you said it was your word against his. It'll be different this time. I've always wondered, though," he drew in a breath, hesitating, "since your father is a police officer..."

"Why didn't I ask for his help when I needed it?" I finished for him. I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I guess...I guess I was a bit of a coward. I just wanted to get away and leave the whole thing behind me as fast as possible.

"And I, uh...this is going to sound stupid, by the way. Charlie never liked James, and he didn't exactly hide his opinion. I thought he was upset, just because it was hard for him to realize his little girl had grown up, but...he saw something in James, something I didn't see. Maybe I was blind, or maybe it was some supernatural cop instinct that warned him and made him see something I didn't.

"We had an argument or two about it, and when he heard I'd moved in with James, he blew a gasket. And the ironic thing is, I always defended James. I was the blind one, and I never saw that Charlie was right, and I was wrong...until it was too late. So, when I found out James was cheating on me, and when we had that fight...when he pushed me, and I fell...I don't know. The thought of telling Charlie about it..." I sighed, shaking my head.

Carlisle's eyes were sympathetic. "Were you afraid of his reaction?"

I shook my head. "Actually, no. I knew he wouldn't have been mad at me, or even disappointed. He never would've said 'I told you so.' Charlie's not like that. The reason why it seemed impossible to tell him was because I felt like I couldn't face him. It wasn't pride...not really. I was just horribly ashamed that I'd been so wrong about James. I kept telling myself that I should've listened to Charlie, that I should've seen what James was really like. But I suppose I saw him through rose-colored glasses. Until that one day."

"It happens. And it's understandable, wanting to see only the good things in someone you like and ignore their flaws." He touched my cheek gently. "I wonder..." he trailed off and smiled sadly, shaking his head.

"What?" I asked, curious.

He gave me a searching look. "I wonder what color your glasses are," he said, "when you look at _me_."

I bit my bottom lip, pondering. "Well, I suppose my glasses were rose-colored in the beginning. Aren't they always?"

"I suppose," he admitted, chuckling. "But now?" He narrowed his eyes, his small smile falling. He looked almost...worried.

I smiled. "Well, when I first met you, I saw this handsome, charming, mysterious man, and...I wasn't sure what to make of him. He was an enigma, and he intrigued me – for several reasons – and I wanted to get to know him. But it was hard, because...I could sense he didn't want me to get to know him. I knew there had to be an explanation for it. I knew...there had to be a reason why you wanted to keep me at arm's length.

"I obviously wanted to find out what that reason was, but I also wanted it to happen on _your_ terms. But there was a small voice inside me that kept warning me that, maybe it'd never happen. That maybe I was just another person passing by in your life. The thought was...well, it hurt more than I wanted to admit. And by the time I became aware of all these things, the rose-colored glasses were pretty much gone. And now...now I get see you for who you are."

"And what do you see?" His voice was uncertain; there was hidden fear in it. The emotion was more visible in his eyes. They could hide nothing, his eyes. Their blue, deep color was just too honest.

I smiled, taking his hand. "I see a man," I began, "who's handsome, and charming, and still a bit mysterious. I see a man who's lonely...a man whose most important lifeline is to stay that way. Lonely. But I also see a man who's...tired of it all. I see a man who's searching for another lifeline. Not to forget or leave behind what was before, but...but to discover there are still colors in the world. To step away from the shadow that was cast a long time ago."

Carlisle squeezed my hand, his eyes dropping to the sheets between us. "And what if...what if I can't step away from that shadow?" he asked quietly. "What if I don't want to see the colors?"

I stayed silent and just looked at him, until he lifted his gaze and met my eyes. I waited, knowing there was something else he wanted to say. Something he was afraid to say. Something he was struggling to put to words.

"Bella," he began, his voice quiet. "All those things you know about me...all those things Edward told you...the person I am, the person I've been for so many years...I'm not sure how much I can...change from that. I need you to know that. And what I said a few hours ago, when I told you I love you..." He sighed, and then he pulled in a deep breath, like he was about to dive into icy water. "I don't want you to feel like you're...obligated...to stay with me, just because you now know about my feelings. That's the last thing I want. I don't want my limitations to become your limitations. I don't want my fears to stand in the way of your dreams."

I stayed silent for a moment, wanting him to know I'd heard him, that I was truly considering his words. He was watching me all the while; there was both restlessness and acceptance in his eyes. It was like he was trying to prepare himself. When I drew in a breath to speak, his fingers tightened around mine.

"You seem to assume," I began slowly, holding his gaze, "that my dreams involve things you can't give me."

He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

"Carlisle, I know what you're saying. I hear you, I do. And I ask you to hear me in return. The way I feel about you...I haven't felt like this about anyone ever before. You have to know that. And I know about your fears. When Edward told me about the accident," I squeezed his hand, wordlessly apologizing, "he made it very clear that staying in a relationship with you means I have to give up certain things. I'm aware of all this. I'm aware of what I'm giving up...by staying with you."

He regarded me carefully. "But...the thought of not becoming a mother one day..." He let out a quiet sigh, his eyes sad. "Doesn't it...isn't it at all painful to you?" He looked at me like he couldn't understand me. "Bella, despite what happened to Esme and me..." He drew in a shaky breath. "Despite what happened fourteen years ago...the short time I got to be a father...it was the happiest time of my life. I'd do it all over again, in spite of how everything ended. I wouldn't give up those four years we had with...with Alice."

The way he said her name...it was like it burned his lips as he spoke it. But it was also like...like saying her name was the only reason he was alive and breathing. Like even in death, she was the reason for his existence.

I squeezed his hand gently. It was a moment before I could speak; Edward had said he hadn't heard Carlisle say Alice's name in fourteen years, that the only person he could talk to about her was Esme. To have to him talk about this with me was...well, humbling. I hadn't expected this.

And the fact that he was talking to me about this at all meant he _really_ wanted me to think this through. It meant he was desperate to make sure I understood the importance of this matter. It made me question myself a bit; was I taking this too lightly, after all? _Had_ I really thought this through? I wanted to think I had, but was it the naive and inexperienced side of me talking? The truth was, I truly couldn't _know_ what I was giving up. Parenthood was something I'd never experienced, after all.

But, when it came to matters like this...was experience the only thing that made you competent to make important, life-changing decisions like this?

A gentle touch on my cheek pulled me from my thoughts; Carlisle was watching me closely.

"You're starting to see what I mean," he said quietly. "And I'm glad you are."

I inhaled slowly. "Well, if your goal was to make me think about things, you succeeded."

He nodded, avoiding my gaze. I touched a finger to his chin, tilting his head, so I could see his eyes. They were guarded. It was like he was expecting bad news, and he was determined to accept whatever I had to say now.

"You got me thinking, yes," I told him softly. "But, it doesn't mean I'm ready to...reconsider."

He frowned. "Bella..."

I shook my head. "Just...hear me out. Maybe you think I'm naive and thoughtless, but I believe one shouldn't have to give up and sacrifice the good things you have in your life today, just because of something you may or may not want tomorrow. No one knows what's going to happen, after all. I might fall down the stairs next week and crack my skull and die.

"My point is...life's too short. And if things had turned out differently, if I'd never met you...if I'd met someone else instead, a man who wanted, let's say, twelve kids or something...if I'd fallen in love with that man instead of you, then I guess I would've been open to the thought of starting a family with him. But I didn't meet that man. I didn't fall in love with him. I met _you_. I fell in love with _you_."

Carlisle swallowed hard. When he spoke, his voice was just a whisper. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that...while falling in love is almost never a choice, _loving_ someone sometimes is. And if you're asking me to choose between you and someone I've never even met, someone who wants children...if you're asking me to choose between a life with you and a life I may not even want...if that's what you're asking...then I choose you. Of course, I do. How could I not?" I gave a soft, quiet laugh and shook my head.

Carlisle didn't say anything for a long time. He just kept looking at me, like he couldn't believe what I'd just said. Like he was expecting me to take my words back any second.

"Of course, I believe this may be something you want now," he said quietly, "But what if you come to rethink these things in ten years, or in twenty? What if you end up regretting your choice? Could you live with yourself if that happened?"

I tried to choose my words carefully, wanting him to know I wasn't ignoring what he tried to say. But before I could say anything, he continued, his eyes dropping to the bed between us.

"Esme...she would've wanted to have another chance. What happened to our daughter...her fate never made Esme succumb to fear. She never let her grief rule her life, like my grief has ruled mine for all these years. She always dreamed of having more children, but by the time she met her new husband...well, her age became a factor. I've seen how much it pains her, how much she suffers for not being able to conceive anymore, and I..." He let out a slow sigh, shaking his head. "It makes me think about how... If I'd stayed with her after the accident...if I'd been the husband she deserved, if I hadn't pushed her away, then maybe..."

I touched a finger to his lips. "Carlisle, stop," I said quietly. "No more ifs, or what-ifs. Or isn't fourteen years of those enough? That one time you said to me that your life has pretty much been based on what-ifs and what-could-have-beens…it's time for that to end, don't you think?"

He gave me a sad smile. "I just don't want it to be you, Bella. I don't want you to have to regret anything. And if it turns out I'm the one to blame, if you someday end up questioning the choices you've made..."

"First of all, you wouldn't be the one to blame. I'm making an informed decision here. I fully acknowledge there are things you're not ready consider, and since I'm aware of this, I won't expect those things from you. There are a lot of couples out there who either can't have children, or choose not to have children, and they deal with it, and they're completely happy.

"I'm not discounting what you're saying. I just mean that, for some people, the decision not to have children isn't a sacrifice at all, but just a choice among hundreds of others. And if I do end up regretting my choice someday, and if I become this bitter, nagging middle-aged harpy, just because it suddenly occurs to me that I'm childless..." I gave him a small smile. "That's when I can get myself a punching bag to vent my pent-up aggression. And a good therapist."

He gave a soft laugh. "And let me guess. You deal with it and move on? You've made your bed, so you'll have to lie in it as well?"

"Did I make it sound too easy?"

He laughed quietly again, a sad sparkle in his blue eyes. "Maybe. But, you know, something tells me that's exactly what you'd do. You're the type of person who deals with her problems and faces them head-on. I wish...I wish I could be like you."

I shifted, resting my head on the pillow. "I'm flattered, but I don't always face my problems head-on." I thought about all those weeks I'd harbored feelings for him and hadn't been able to bring it up with him, in the fear of losing what we had. "Anyway, what makes you think you're not that person?"

He gave me a joyless smile. "The obvious fact that I've been living like this for these past years. I mean, the way Esme grieved was always much healthier compared to the way I dealt with what happened."

"I don't think there's a guide for these things. Everyone deals with loss differently."

Carlisle began to trace idle patterns on the skin of my arm. "That's the thing. I don't think I was...dealing with it. Not really." He paused, staring at a spot on the wall. "I think...it made Esme and Edward more worried than open grief would've. I can't really even imagine what I put them through by behaving like I did."

"You have to stop that," I said quietly. "You can't take the blame for everything. If you keep feeling guilty about every single thing, it's going to eat you alive. And also..." I waited until he met my eyes, and then I took his hand, lacing his fingers with mine. "I want you to stop feeling like I'm making some huge, irreversible sacrifice by wanting to stay with you. I don't want you to feel guilty about the fact that I choose you over having children. I _want_ this with you, Carlisle. Don't ever doubt that."

A small sigh left his chest. "I'm not," he answered, whispering. "But–"

"No. No buts," I interrupted, holding his gaze relentlessly. "If you're already feeling guilty, if you already feel bad about my choice, what chances do you think we have?"

He just looked at me for a long while, just looked and said nothing. After a moment, he closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "You're right. If I keep feeling like this, it's going to come between us. I don't want that." He opened his eyes and squeezed my hand. "I want you to know, though, that you're under no obligation. You're still so young, Bella. You have a whole life ahead of you. You may come to change your mind about this, and if that happens, I want you to be honest with me and tell me about it, sooner rather than later. I won't hold it against you. Can you promise me, Bella? Can you promise me that, if you someday have second thoughts, you'll tell me?"

"Of course," I squeezed his hand. "If something's bugging me, of course I'll tell you. Honesty plays a big part is these things, you know. An old man like you should know that." That made him smile. "But Carlisle, get this into your head, please. Obligation has nothing to do with this. I _want_ to stay with you. I could never just walk away from you because...I love you."

I felt a little nervous as I said that. Even though I'd already told him I was in love with him, saying the actual words, "I love you" felt...different. I was glad I said it, though. The look in his blue eyes was suddenly incredibly soft. He cupped my cheek gently, before tracing the shape of my lips with his fingertip.

"And I love you," he whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. All those days I was gone...I now feel like I wasted so much time."

"Or maybe not. Maybe you needed it – time, that is. And a few kicks in the butt from Edward."

He gave a soft chuckle. "And from Esme as well. God, she was furious with me, when she heard what I'd done - that I'd left. I've never been afraid of a woman before, but when she came to see me, she was..." He shook his head slowly.

I laughed quietly, giving him a curious glance. "About Esme. A few hours ago, you said she was the first person you told about me. What did you... Well, did you mean something by that?"

Carlisle avoided my gaze, his eyes growing serious. "I, uh...yes. I told her about you very soon after we'd met. She dropped by to see me one day and...well, she knows me very well, and she could instantly tell something was going on with me. The funny thing is, I hadn't even known you very long, and we'd barely spent two nights together. But still...still, I was already so... _taken_ with you. For anyone else, that feeling can be extremely positive and uplifting, but for me..." he trailed off, searching for words.

"It wasn't for you?" I asked carefully, unsure how to feel about his confession.

"No. It wasn't. Don't take this the wrong way, Bella, but...it was frightening. I felt very off-balance and unsettled by the feelings you awoke in me. I had a tiny...well, I suppose you could call it a meltdown, and Esme...she was there to talk some sense into me and keep me from climbing the walls."

"That's why I didn't see you for a week," I realized. "And that's why you looked so...unwell the next time I saw you. I thought you'd been ill or something."

He nodded, giving me a sad smile. "Yes. Are you now beginning to realize what kind of a headcase I sometimes am?"

"You're not a headcase," I disagreed softly. "And I'm sorry, I guess, that I nearly made you climb walls. That wasn't my intention at all."

That made him smile. "I'm not sorry. Quite the opposite. Having a few mental breakdowns is worth it...if I get to keep you."

I chuckled. "That's probably the strangest compliment I've ever received. Thanks."

"I meant every word."

Giving a soft laugh, I eased closer to him to press a kiss on his lips. As I drew back, he was smiling, but his eyes were suddenly thoughtful.

"What?" I asked quietly, touching a finger to his lips. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

He gave a soft laugh; there was something forced about it. "Speaking of mental breakdowns...I wanted to tell you I'm back in therapy."

That surprised me. "Since when?"

He smiled with forced ease. "Since last week."

I reached out to stroke his cheek. "Carlisle, that's great. No, that's fantastic." I smiled, hesitating. "How is it going? How many sessions have you had?"

"Just one. As for how it's going, I'm not sure yet. It's not easy, that's for sure. I didn't expect it to be."

I nodded. "The most important thing is that you went back, even though you knew it'd be hard. You're taking steps forward instead of standing still." I paused, brushing a lock of blond hair away from his forehead. "Did Esme go with you?"

He shook his head. "She offered to, but...I don't know. It was important to me that I went alone. I don't know why. I can't explain it."

"You don't have to. You should do this your way, on your own terms." I rested my head on the pillows, and he wrapped his arms around me and drew me closer. We were silent for a long moment; I was still processing his small revelation. After a while, I realized I felt something like relief. Knowing he was back in therapy, that he had gone there of his own free will...it was a huge thing. An important thing.

I could suddenly feel him smile, and as I drew away to see his face, there was a new sparkle in his eyes.

"So," he said, his tone lighter now, "About this father of yours...does he carry his service weapon wherever he goes? Or does he keep it with him only when he's on duty?"

"When he's on duty. Why?"

"Just making sure. When I someday meet him, I guess I'll have to make sure he's not wearing his uniform. I have a feeling he might not like the idea of his young daughter being in a relationship with a forty-five-year-old man."

"Well, it's possible he'll turn purple when he first hears about it," I mused, making Carlisle laugh quietly. "But you know, I think it won't be a _huge_ shock for him. My mom...she married a man who's twelve years younger than her. Who knows – maybe he's expecting a similar stunt from me. And besides," I smiled, reaching out to run my fingers through his hair, "Last night, someone I work with told me that my mental age is forty-five. So, we're not _that_ far apart from each other, age-wise. In fact, I think we're very compatible."

Carlisle inched closer to me, resting his head on the pillows. "You know, I think you're right. We're... _very_ compatible." Then, he caught my lips with his.

The kiss was both gentle and urgent, just like the touch of his hands was, as he pulled me closer into his embrace. There was something right about the way my body curved around his, about the way his touches echoed his words.

It was like our bodies, even our skins, knew about our undeniable compatibility.

* * *

I slept in the next morning, and when I woke up, at first, I didn't understand why I was smiling. Almost immediately, though, I remembered what had happened the previous night, and I opened my eyes and turned onto my back, slightly resentful of the fact that there wasn't a warm body pressing up against me. Soon, I discovered the reason for that; the bed on Carlisle's side was empty.

I sat up so quickly I got dizzy. What had happened last night...had it been just a dream? Was it possible? Could the universe be so cruel to me?

I ran an anxious hand through my hair. The movement caused me to become aware of something; my wrist was aching. A sigh of relief rushed out of me, and I thought idly that I'd never been so glad about having bruises before. Bruises meant I hadn't imagined any of it; last night after I'd left work, James had been there, and then Carlisle had arrived with Edward...

Where was he now, then? My apartment was quiet, and the bathroom door was open; he wasn't taking a shower. And since it was Sunday, he didn't have classes, either.

I scrambled out of bed and got tangled in the sheets in the process, landing painfully on my other knee. I cursed quietly as I picked myself up from the floor. Rubbing my knee, I went to the dresser and pulled on some underwear, and just as I was tugging on a t-shirt, Carlisle appeared at the door. He was fully dressed.

"What was that thump?" he asked, giving me a concerned frown.

I was so relieved about seeing him it made me feel almost guilty.

"That was me," I said, laughing softly. "The bedsheets attacked me." I gave him a curious glance. "Where were you? How long have you been up?"

"Not long. I was making breakfast for you."

"Oh? What did you make?"

He grinned softly. "Pancakes. How does that sound?"

"Perfect."

Carlisle opened his mouth to say something, but the doorbell rang. He cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Are you expecting company?" he asked, his tone playful.

"Maybe," I answered, smiling. "Who knows. Maybe it's one of my boyfriends. I have a whole harem, you know."

"Oh? And you're just telling me this now?" Carlisle chuckled and shook his head. "You're full of surprises, as always."

I rolled my eyes. "It's probably Rosalie. She's been checking up on me. Could you let her in while I get dressed?" It had suddenly occurred to me I was wearing only a T-shirt and panties. "A fair warning, though. She might be a little... _surprised_ to see you here."

Carlisle smiled sadly and began to make his way out of the bedroom. "Don't worry. Whatever she's going to say to me when she sees me, I'm sure I deserve it."

I wanted to disagree, but before I could say anything, he was already gone. I quickly grabbed a pair of jeans from the drawer, and by the time I had managed to drag them on, I could easily hear Rosalie's high-pitched voice ringing through the apartment.

Uh-oh. She had switched to ranting mode in less than three seconds. That wasn't good.

Deciding that finding socks could wait, I hurried to the hallway towards her tension-filled soprano voice.

"Bella," she huffed as soon as she saw me. "What is _he_ doing here?" She pointed a finger towards Carlisle, who was beginning to look more or less unsettled by Rosalie's loud outburst; I suppose he had underestimated how scary she could be when she was angry.

"Rosalie, just calm down, okay?" I said in an appeasing tone. "He came to talk to me. To apologize."

"Did he now?" she hissed and shot an annoyed glance at Carlisle. "Only took you almost three weeks. Jerk. Dick. Asshole. _Coward._ "

"Rose–" I began, but Carlisle's soft voice interrupted me.

"You're right," he said to Rosalie. "You're absolutely right. I should've come earlier. But also...I needed time to realize...to truly understand what it was I'd walked away from."

Rosalie snorted. "That's bullshit. You knew what you were giving up. Needing time is a lame excuse. You're a sissy, that's what you are."

"Rosalie–" I tried again, only to be interrupted once more.

"You're absolutely right," Carlisle agreed again, nodding.

Rosalie was about to fling another accusation at him, but his words gave her a pause. Carlisle took advantage of her state of surprise and took a step closer to her.

"I was a coward," he said, speaking slowly and deliberately. "I let my own fears get the best of me. And by letting that happen, I didn't just harm myself, but I hurt Bella as well. I'm well aware of this, believe me. But I assure you, that'll never happen again. I'll stay with her as long as she wants me."

Rosalie narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "And why should I believe you?" she asked in a challenging tone.

"Because I love her," Carlisle said quietly. "I love her, and I was a fool to have ever tried to convince myself otherwise." He turned to look at me, then, giving me a soft smile. The look in his eyes...it was more than earnest. More than sincere. It calmed the storming oceans inside me.

The look he gave me seemed to have an effect on Rosalie as well. She dropped her arms to her sides, but the expression on her face was still tense.

"Alright," she said, her voice still sharp. "But please tell me _I_ wasn't the first to hear that. Because maybe you should've told _Bella_ first instead of me?"

"He did tell me," I assured her and walked over to Carlisle. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "Soon after he nearly kicked the crap out of James, that is."

Rosalie's eyes widened at my words, and for a moment, she seemed to forget she was pissed off. _"James?_ What do you mean? What happened?"

I told her how I'd been about to leave for home after my shift the previous night, when James and his two friends had gotten a little too friendly.

"Turns out he's even more frustrating when he's drunk," I stated in a dry manner. "Anyway, when I tried to go to my truck, he became a little aggressive. He even grabbed me, and that's when Carlisle and his brother arrived. Carlisle pulled him off me, and...well, I'm guessing that when James wakes up today, he'll find his butt is more or less bruised and sore."

Rosalie raised her eyebrows and pursed up her lips approvingly. "Huh. Well..." She gave Carlisle a speculative glance. "Well, I guess you can't be rotten to the core if you did that." When Carlisle gave a soft laugh, she shot him another sharp look. "I still don't trust you, though. And if you ever hurt Bella again, I'm going to go _fucking medieval_ on your male parts. Is that clear?"

Carlisle looked like he didn't know if he should be amused or horrified. He cleared his throat quietly, nodding slowly. "You're free to do so. I'd deserve it," he answered. "If I ever hurt Bella again, I'll come straight to you."

Rosalie narrowed her eyes at him, apparently trying to determine if he was being sincere or not. This wasn't the first time Rosalie had gotten protective, and as much as I appreciated it, I wanted to tell her it was alright. As soon as I opened my mouth, though, Carlisle took my hand and squeezed it, wordlessly asking me to stay quiet.

Rosalie fumed silently for a moment more, her fierce eyes never leaving Carlisle's face.

"I want to believe you," she said eventually. "Because Bella really likes you. You're important to her. Don't you _ever_ ignore that again."

Carlisle nodded slowly. "I won't. I promise."

"Alright." Rosalie crossed her arms again, looking from Carlisle to me. For a long moment, she just regarded us carefully. "Well, does all this mean you're giving it a real shot this time?"

I looked up at Carlisle, and he met my gaze.

"Yes, I suppose," he murmured softly. "Like I said...I'll be here as long as Bella wants me to be here."

I rolled my eyes. "You speak as if I'll suddenly just grow tired of you one day and point you toward the door. Not going to happen, believe me."

He smiled. "Well, I guess I'll hold you to that."

"You'd better."

Rosalie was still staring at Carlisle with narrowed eyes. Although she didn't seem as hostile as before, it was clear it would take some time for her to trust him again.

"Emmett and I were planning on going to dinner on Friday. Want to join us?" she asked. The sudden change of subject threw me.

Carlisle glanced at me, quirking his eyebrows. "Do you have to work?"

I shook my head, giving Rosalie a smile. "No. I have a day off. I guess we'll be there."

"Great. It's a date." Rosalie came to give me a swift hug, pressing a kiss on my cheek, and then she turned to the door. "I'll see you on Friday, then."

After she had closed the door behind her, Carlisle gave me a glance. There was an uncertain smile on his lips. "She's testing me, isn't she?" he murmured.

"Probably. I guess she wants to see if you're willing to do normal couple things." I gave a soft laugh. "I'm sorry she spoke so harshly to you. She's just very...protective. Even though we're the same age, she's like a big sister to me sometimes. Or at least she acts like one."

"It's alright. Loyal people like her are hard to find. And I'm glad you have such a...fierce friend."

I chuckled. "Fierce is the word."

He gave a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He put his hands on my waist and looked at me closely.

"What?" I asked, wondering why he was looking at me like that.

He hesitated. "I'm just...wondering how bad off you were after I left...considering how furious Rosalie was with me just now."

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I was sad, of course," I admitted. "I mean, how could I not be? But it's not as if I holed up in my apartment for days or something like that. And instead of building boyfriend bonfires, I got up in the mornings and went to work as usual. It kept me...sane, I guess."

He traced the shape of my eyes with the tip of his forefinger. "I noticed this," he said quietly. "You have dark circles under your eyes. I know it takes more than one sleepless night to look so tired."

I shrugged again. "Okay. So, I had some trouble sleeping. I'm sure I wasn't the only one."

He gave me a sad smile. His hands left my waist, trailing up and down my sides. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "Those pancakes are probably cold by now, but..."

I tugged at his arm, and he followed me into the kitchen. "I'm sure they're fine. But I think breakfast can wait for a moment more." I let go of his arm and grabbed the key Carlisle had taken out of the freezer the previous night.

He smiled at me. "Are you sure it's melted?"

"Quite sure."

"May I?"

I gave him the key, and then he took my hand and began to lead me towards my bedroom. As we stopped in front of the wooden chest of drawers, I gave him a nod.

"Be my guest," I said with a soft smile.

Chuckling, he unlocked the top drawer. After a moment, he pulled out my sapphire necklace, smiling as he secured it around my neck. Its small weight on my chest felt very comforting.

I noticed Carlisle was watching me intently; his eyes were a little sad. They were almost always sad, of course, but now...there was something different in their blue depths.

"I'm sorry I took it off," I said quietly; I had a good hunch about what was going on in his head.

"Well, I'm sorry I gave you a reason to take it off," he murmured, cupping my cheek. "I'm sorry I left like I did."

I shook my head. "No more apologies. It's behind us. I'm just glad you came back."

Carlisle stroked a finger along my jawline. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "And I'm...glad," he said slowly, "that Edward bumped into you at the café that one day. I know I was upset and shocked, when I found out he'd told you everything, but...I'm now glad he did. I should've expected something like that from him, actually. He's always been a little bit of a meddler."

I chuckled. "That's what I said – that he's a meddler. But he has a reason to be, you know. He just wants you to be happy."

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I'm glad he kept his eyes open, then. I'm glad he saw something I was desperate to deny. If he hadn't told you about..." he trailed off, his expression sobering, and for a long moment, he just stared at a spot above my head, searching for words. "I know fourteen years seems like a very long time for anyone, but for me..." He shook his head. "I think a part of me still lives in that other life that came to an end that night. It'll always be so." He met my gaze and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Is that something you can accept, Bella?"

I gave him a sad smile. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes. You are. But Bella, the things I said before I left all those days ago...I'm afraid I have to stand behind some of them. When I asked you if…if you're willing to be second best to a memory of someone I can't forget..." he blew out an unsteady breath. "It was a relevant question, I believe. One you should consider."

"Carlisle, I'm well aware there are things you can't leave behind, things you can't forget. And it's not like you _should_ forget. She was your daughter, after all. These things are part of you for obvious reasons. And I'm not naive. I know my presence won't magically fix everything. I'm not expecting to cure your broken heart. I can't take away the reason for your nightmares. I can't take away the reason behind your sadness." I brought up a hand to cup his cheek. "Losing your daughter...I can never know how much pain you still carry because of what happened. I know you'll always carry that pain. I know I can't make those things go away. I just hope I can bring you at least some happiness...and I can make you at least a little less lonely."

He smiled softly. "You do, Bella. You do bring me happiness. A lot of it. I suppose I'm trying to say that, I...I wish I could be a complete person. Someone you deserve."

"I told you that one night, that you never needed to be whole. _This_ ," I placed a palm over his heart, " _this_ is the person I fell in love with. And maybe...maybe the things that haunt you aren't always there to _haunt_ you, if you know what I mean. Edward said..." I hesitated, licking my lips, "Edward said Esme could never even imagine moving out of the house you lived in before the accident. He said the memories give her comfort. One day, maybe it'll be that way for you, too."

"Maybe," Carlisle said quietly, but he didn't sound too certain. His hands dropped from my shoulders. "You know, I've visited her at that house only three times during the past decade." He shook his head. "When Esme remarried a couple of years ago, and when she told me she wanted to have the reception at the house...I almost didn't go. It was...cowardly of me."

"But you did go?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"And how was it?"

He shook his head. "It's...hard to explain. Mostly, I just tried focus on _why_ I was there. I wanted to be happy for Esme and Bob – that's her husband's name – but I didn't stay long. Esme understood, of course, but at the same time, she didn't. Not fully. That house was always her home, even after the accident. But when it comes to me...returning there without _her…_ " He swallowed, and Alice's name was in his eyes, even though it wasn't on his lips. "That house stopped being my home the moment I realized...she'd never come running through the door again."

I took his hand in a feeble attempt to offer him comfort. I tried to think of something to say, but no words were good enough. What could you say to a father who had buried his child?

Carlisle squeezed my hand, maybe to tell me he knew the words that refused to surface. It made me realize he'd probably gotten enough condolences over the years. Therefore, I said nothing. I just held his hand and reached out to touch his cheek with my other one. As I ran a thumb over his lips, I wondered idly what his smile had looked like, before that fateful night fourteen years ago.

I knew I had to accept the fact that I'd probably never know.


	23. Sunlight On Water

_**"I have been a haunted house.**_

 _ **I have had things die but stay,**_

 _ **And I didn't know how to make them leave.**_

 _ **And there were certainly times I didn't want them to leave,**_

 _ **because they were beautiful.**_

 _ **They were no longer real, but they were beautiful.**_

 _ **They were bridges to brighter days."**_

\- Jamie Tworkowski -

* * *

 **Sunlight on Water**

My life returned to its pleasant, comfortable rhythm of work and spending time with Carlisle. We spent every night together, either at my place or his, and on Friday night, we went to dinner with Rosalie and Emmett. Emmett was his usual, cheerful self, but I noticed that, even though Rosalie was polite to Carlisle, she kept giving him cool, measuring gazes every now and then. As the evening passed, she slowly began to warm up to him again, but I could see she tried not to show it to him. I suppose she saw how happy Carlisle's presence made me, and maybe she was now able to believe he hadn't left because he meant to hurt me.

In fact, maybe those days we'd spent apart had been good for us, as strange as it sounded. Maybe thinking things over had even helped Carlisle to face some of his demons. There was a new closeness between us now; I wondered if he could feel it, too. Like something had changed, shifted.

Even though I became aware of that subtle, invisible change, even though I acknowledged the existence of balance that hadn't been there before...even so, it surprised me a bit, when it began to show in Carlisle's actions in ways I couldn't have expected. As the days passed, I began to see new sides of him, sides he'd always kept hidden from the world. From me.

I wondered if his weekly therapy sessions had something to do with it. We didn't talk about them that much; Carlisle was always quieter and more subdued than normal after the sessions. I always asked him how it had gone, but otherwise, I didn't pressure him to talk about it. I slowly began to believe, though, that returning to therapy was helping him. One sign was that he began to share things. Things I never would have expected him to share.

After spending a few nights at my apartment, it was my turn to stay at his house once again. One night, as we were getting ready to turn in for the night, I emerged from the bathroom and saw Carlisle was sitting on the side of the bed I considered mine. There was something about him – maybe the posture of his shoulders – that caught my attention.

Drying my face with a towel, I rounded the bed. I was about to ask him what was wrong, and that was when I noticed the bedside drawer was open. Carlisle was holding a familiar-looking wedding ring in his fingers, but his attention was on something else.

When I had looked into that drawer weeks and weeks ago and had accidentally found his ring, there had been another object in there that had remained a mystery to me; the photo album with brown cover. It was resting in Carlisle's lap now. He met my gaze when he noticed my arrival, giving me a look I couldn't decipher.

I bit my lip, hesitating, but when he reached out a hand and pulled me to sit beside him on the bed, my uncertainty disappeared. I began to feel something between curious and confused, then, but I didn't say anything.

Carlisle wasn't speaking, either. A few moments passed, and then he drew in a deep breath, placing the silver ring on the bedside table. Then, he took the album, his movements slow and deliberate, and offered it to me.

Still feeling a little confused, I put aside the towel and took the album, running my fingers down its smooth leather covers.

"What is this?" I asked quietly, looking at him.

He didn't answer right away. "Many things." The words came out as a quiet sigh.

There was something in his eyes that made an uneasy feeling – something like a hunch – settle in the pit of my stomach. "Carlisle, if you don't want me to see this..."

He shook his head. "I want you to see it," he said quietly. "You're part of my life now, Bella. And...what's in that album is part of my life, too. That's why it's important I show it to you."

I stared into his eyes for a long moment, looking for signs of hesitation. There were none. Drawing in a slow breath, I looked down at the album, and with trembling fingers, I opened it.

I'd suppose a part of me had still believed it to be a wedding album or something, and maybe that was why I felt a little shaken, as I studied the first few pages. I stared at the sea of photos of a little girl with cornflower blue eyes and dark, unruly hair, and I thought to myself that it would probably be difficult to find a photo of her where she _didn't_ smile. The thought made something within me break, but at the same time, I felt oddly soothed. The little girl in the photos...she was probably the happiest little thing I had ever seen.

Esme and Edward were in some of the photos...and so was Carlisle. He looked a lot younger, but it had nothing to do with age. There was no ancient sadness in his blue eyes, no dark shadows under them. And the smile on his lips...it didn't belong to anyone else but the little girl he was holding in his arms, or holding afloat in a swimming pool, or pulling around in a sled. And the smile on Alice's small lips...it sparkled like sunlight on water.

I stayed silent, as I kept turning page after page, practically drinking in the photos. After a while, I glanced at Carlisle; he was looking at the album very much like I was. Like he, too, was seeing it for the first time.

Suddenly, he pointed at one of the photos; Alice was sitting in a red swing, her dark curls tamed into two pigtails.

"She's three years old in that one," he said quietly. "See her hair? She inherited the color from my mother, but the messiness...she got that from Edward. It used to drive Esme crazy." He gave a soft, fond laugh, and he actually smiled a bit. "I used to braid it or put it in pigtails like that. If I didn't have time for it in the morning, I did it as soon as I got home from the hospital. Alice...she always looked forward to that. I don't know why." He gave another quiet laugh, but this time, it was more sad than fond. And almost...confused.

"I do," I said quietly, giving him a small smile. Carlisle didn't say anything, but he wrapped an arm behind my back, his eyes still on the photo. When I turned the page after a moment, I saw that her hair was a little shorter in the next couple of photos. Some of the disheveled curls were gone, but the girl's smile wasn't.

"She somehow got duct tape in her hair one day," Carlisle explained. "A lot of it. God only knows how. Esme had to cut it out." He shook his head. There was a sparkle in his eyes I had never seen before, and at first, he didn't even seem to be aware of that small change himself.

I leaned my head against his shoulder. "Thank you for showing this to me," I said quietly. I felt him draw in a steadying breath, and then he took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Is there a reason why you...keep the album in the bedside drawer?" I asked carefully.

I felt him give a small shrug. "I sometimes take it out at night and look through it," he murmured. "In my dreams, she's always...gone. Lifeless. And I...when I wake up, I just need to see her, see what she was like when she was alive. To make myself believe she really _was_ alive and breathing. That she existed." He exhaled slowly. "And when I see those photos..." he trailed off, and when he didn't continue, I squeezed his hand.

"Does it help at all?" I asked. "Looking at them?"

"Yes...and no. It's...hard to explain."

"Have you ever considered putting one of them in a frame? I mean, I know you carry a photo of her in your wallet, but maybe having one on the bedside table, for instance..."

He shook his head before I managed to finish, and I fell silent.

"It wouldn't make a difference," he murmured, his voice suddenly distant. "Esme keeps photos of her everywhere in her house, and she always encouraged me to do the same, but...I just don't understand how she can stand it. I used to wonder if she had a masochistic streak or something. Or maybe..." his words trailed off into silence.

"Or maybe what?" I asked, suddenly having a feeling what he'd left unsaid was somehow important.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind."

I tightened my hold around his hand. He met my gaze, and he seemed to consider for a moment. Then, he sighed softly and dropped his eyes to the photos again. His voice was forcibly calm as he spoke, like he was trying to distance himself from the words.

"Maybe Esme doesn't find it...unbearable...to see Alice's face every day, simply because her sorrow is pure, in a way. Nothing taints her grief. She has no reason to feel...guilty. She has no reason to believe she's the one to blame."

I closed my eyes momentarily, as realization dawned on me. "And you have a reason to feel like that? Like you're the one to blame?" I wanted him to look at me, but he kept his eyes on the photos.

"I was a doctor," he answered, speaking quietly, but with a surprisingly hard tone. "I should've been able to help her. I should've been able to do more."

"Doctors aren't all-powerful beings," I said softly.

"And I wouldn't have needed to be all-powerful to help her. If only I…if I'd just–" He heaved out a breath and raked a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

"If you'd...what?" I asked quietly. "If you'd done better? If you'd tried harder? Are you saying you _didn't_ do all those things?"

Carlisle closed his eyes. "Maybe there was something I missed. Something I should've focused on first."

I drew in a deep breath. "Edward told me something...about her injuries. And he also told me the people who examined her...afterwards...said there was nothing more you or anyone could've done."

His lids fluttered open, and his eyes went to a photo where Alice was dressed as a fairy, or maybe an angel; it looked like a Halloween costume.

"Maybe I should've done something _less_ ," he murmured, speaking slowly. "What if some of my actions...made her condition worse...and contributed to her death? Even hastened it?"

I kept looking at him, but he either ignored it on purpose, or he just couldn't make himself look away from the picture of little Alice dressed as an angel.

"So, it's one or the other?" I asked. "You either did too much, or you did too little?" I paused, expecting him to say something, but he didn't. "Do no harm, right? No matter what, you'll always believe you failed to follow that principle."

He closed his eyes again. "It's not about failing to follow principles or precepts. It's about failing in other ways. In worst ways possible. It's about having a small, bleeding child in your arms, about knowing you only have a few seconds to decide what to do. It's about knowing that, if you end up making a mistake, it'll be impossible to go back and change it. It's about...suddenly having to find out that...there's a very thin veil between life and death. It's about wanting to do almost anything to be the one walking through that veil, just as long as it's not your child who has to walk through it."

He opened his eyes, and then he looked at me. But it was almost like...like there was no one behind those eyes. His voice was distant and hard again. "In a couple of days, it'll be fourteen years since it happened. Fourteen years. I've had my fair share of bargaining with God during all that time, Bella. And I've also had my fair share of conversations and arguments with Esme, Edward and an occasional therapist, and nothing they've said has managed to make me feel differently about this. Nothing they've said has eased my feelings of guilt. And I doubt there's anything you can say now."

He withdrew his hand from mine and got up, and I watched him, as he walked out of the room. Even the sound of his footfalls was weary.

And then...there was just a silence full of emptiness and exhaustion. There was a part of me that wasn't very surprised he was pushing me away. That same part had been caught unawares, when he had showed me the album, when I'd discovered what was inside. And now, seeing him walk away to distance himself from me both physically and emotionally...

It made me feel...not disappointed, no. But something like inadequate. Because, he was right – there wasn't a thing I could say to him. I had no idea what he was going through, after all. And if Edward and Esme, not to mention his current therapist, hadn't managed make him see sense...what chances did I have?

None, probably. Did it mean I just had to accept the fact that he would keep blaming himself for what happened? Edward had said Carlisle had a twisted sense of responsibility. Now, I was kind of beginning to see what he had meant. And maybe his feelings of grief and guilt were so tightly knit together that one didn't exist without the other. If so...it was no wonder he couldn't move on.

I wondered idly if the relationship with his own father had anything to do with this. Carlisle had said his father had been an intolerant, angry man, and he'd left when Carlisle had been very young. Was it possible he was comparing himself to him? His father had failed his family by leaving, after all, by not being a good father, and Edward had said Carlisle still keeps feeling like he had failed Alice.

I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around all this. I knew I should probably go talk to Edward one of these days, if I wanted to get more insight on this matter. I didn't know where his house was – I only knew he lived on the other side of the city. I'd have to ask Carlisle about it, or maybe he would tell me where Edward's office was. Since our relationship was now official, he wouldn't find it strange that I wanted to know more about his brother.

I wouldn't ask about it tonight, though. Looking over my shoulder, I stared at the door through which Carlisle had disappeared a moment ago. I wondered if he was feeling as if I'd confronted him just now. If so, I wondered how offended he felt. Maybe he thought I had questioned his feelings, and that obviously hadn't been my intention. Or maybe...maybe this topic was just that hard for him, as simple as that, and that was why he wanted to be alone. Edward had said Carlisle refused talk about Alice with anyone except Esme. The fact that he was willing to talk about this with me at all was...significant.

I wanted to go to him, but something told me my presence wouldn't soothe him. I looked down at the album again, running a finger over the photo of Alice dressed as an angel. Sighing quietly, I closed the album and put it back in the bedside drawer. After placing the silver wedding ring on top of it, I pushed the drawer closed.

I left the bedside light on as I crawled under the covers, and I forced myself to lie awake for a long time. Maybe there was nothing I could say to Carlisle, nothing I could do for him, and maybe all he wanted to do was to be alone, but...at least I could stay awake and face the night together with him, even if we weren't in the same room.

* * *

It must have been sometime after midnight when something interrupted my light sleep, and I realized I had broken my wordless promise to stay awake. I didn't know what it was that woke me up – maybe it was the sudden darkness, as the bedside light was turned off. The bed jostled slightly, and then there was a warm, comforting weight next to me.

I stirred as I felt warm lips press against my cheek, very lightly and softly. Carlisle stilled as he felt my small movement.

"Did I wake you?" he whispered.

I shook my head, but then I remembered it was dark. "No, I mean...I was waiting for you," I answered sleepily.

His nose nuzzled my ear, and he snuggled into me, with his arm over my chest. "You didn't have to. I didn't mean to keep you awake. I'm sorry. "

"I wanted to talk to you. To say...some things," I murmured and dragged my eyes open, trying to leave behind the heaviness of sleep. "When we were talking earlier...I didn't mean to tell you how to feel. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. And you weren't telling me how to feel. You were just...trying to help me see things how you see them. How everyone seems to see them. Everyone except me." I felt him sigh, his warm breath brushing against my neck.

"What does that tell you?" I asked softly. "If you're the only one who sees these matters in a certain way..."

He didn't answer for a while. "It tells me...that I live in an invisible prison I've built myself," he murmured. "And since it's invisible...I have no way to free myself. To bring down its walls."

I turned onto my side, facing him and pressing my forehead to his. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer. "But what if I can see those walls?" I asked. "What if they're not invisible to me?"

He drew in a slow, shaky breath and tightened his hold around me. "It shouldn't matter. I don't want this to become your burden, Bella," he whispered, his voice suddenly unsteady. "I don't want you to suffer...just because I suffer."

Something about his voice tugged at my heart, and I reached out a hand, running my fingers over his cheekbones. When they came back wet, I shifted closer to him and tucked his head under my chin, running my fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. I felt his warm breaths against my neck and chest; they were slow, forcibly even and controlled. It was as if the thought of falling to pieces in front of me was something he couldn't consider, not even in complete darkness. It was as if it would make him somehow weaker, letting me see him vulnerable. The mere thought was ironic – he was probably the strongest person I knew. A few tears, or an ocean of them, wouldn't change it.

I continued to run my fingers through his hair, even after his breathing had evened out. His wet eyelashes grazed the skin of my neck.

"I know I can't just...wish your pain away. If only I could. If only it were so simple," I murmured softly. "It hurts me to see you in pain, and it hurts me that I have no way to help you. All I really have is just a few clumsy words, if even that." I paused, swallowing. "And when you say you don't want this to become my burden..."

I felt him give a sad sigh. "I just feel...responsible. I know how much I make Esme and Edward worry. I know they've spent more than a few sleepless nights because of me. I just...I don't want it to be you."

"Just let me worry about myself. And besides, I think you're worth some sleep deprivation. You just have to learn to believe it, too. And since we're on the subject...this is one of your biggest stumbling blocks. I don't know if you're aware of it yourself. You have to stop feeling responsible or guilty about every little thing. You can't feel responsible for making Esme worry, or making Edward worry, or making me worry. Worrying is not going to kill us. You have to let others be responsible for their own feelings. You can't control everything; you have to accept that."

I felt him breathe out slowly. "You're right. I suppose I have been...trying to control everything too much. I know it's useless, but it's the only thing I have. It's the only thing that helps me stay...sane. Or at least that's what I've told myself." He paused. "And as useless as it is...I just keep hoping no one would burden themselves with my problems."

"Just like the people around you keep hoping you'll let go of your guilt. That you'll no longer blame yourself for what happened."

"Bella..."

"I know. There's nothing I can say. I'm sure Esme and Edward have given you this same speech many times over the years, and it hasn't changed the way you feel about it. And that's the point, I think. No one else but _you_ can make you see differently about this. Only you can choose to walk that path. I may be able to see the invisible walls you've built...but only you can bring them down. But you have to _choose_ to see them first. And you refuse to do that. That's the problem here."

He was silent for a long time before speaking. "Edward said something similar to me once. And I wanted to tell him that it's not so simple. I wanted to tell him that…if I choose to believe there was nothing I could've done to save...Alice...if I choose to believe I'm not the one to blame...then it'd mean there really was _nothing_ I could've done. It'd mean I have to accept what happened. That I have to accept the possibility that she never had any chances. How could I do that?"

He swallowed hard. "Fathers...they're supposed to watch over their children. They're supposed to make sure nothing happens to them. They're supposed to keep them safe, no matter what. If it's true there was nothing more I could've done to help her...then, what was the _point?_ What does that make me, knowing I never had the means to save her? Why did I become a father, when it had to end like this? Why did I become a doctor, when it turned out my medical skills were not enough? What was the _point,_ Bella?"

His open, naked confusion saddened me more than his despair. "I don't know," I whispered. "I don't have an answer to those questions. I don't think anyone does." I paused, nuzzling his hair with my nose. "But as much as I'd like to give you answers, any answers, I'm not going to start feeding you that crap about how everything happens for a reason."

He gave a soft, surprised laugh; he hadn't expected me to say something like that. "You don't believe in those things?"

I considered his question. "I believe...we all have a purpose," I answered carefully. "But...I just feel that, trying to comfort someone who's grieving by saying something like that isn't helpful. It may sound comforting, but it's not. Not always, anyway. And if I said something like that to you...I'd practically be saying your daughter was given to you, only to be taken away from you. It'd sound like it was her only purpose, to be born and to die way too soon, and that can't be true. I refuse to believe that." I let out a quiet sigh, idly running my fingers through his hair and down his neck.

"I always thought...her purpose was to bring joy to the people around her," I heard him murmur softly. "She wasn't exactly...the calmest child. She was always so full of happy energy, and putting her to bed at night, for instance, sometimes took some effort. Esme always said her personality was as unruly as her hair, and she used to tease Alice about it, saying that, when she'd grow up and start to behave, maybe her hair would begin to behave as well."

I gave a soft chuckle. "And what did Alice say to that?"

It was a moment before he answered. "She said...if her hair went all straight and boring...she'd never want to grow up."

I closed my eyes, my mind filling with images of the raven-haired girl and her mischievous smile. I wondered how often Carlisle and Esme had thought of those innocent words, after they had realized Alice's hair would always stay unruly, that it would never start to behave, because the chance to grow and change had been taken away from her.

I suddenly began to wonder if there was some wisdom in Carlisle's adamant decision not to have more children. I tried to imagine what it would be like to have a tiny, vulnerable human to take care of, to protect. Would my days be filled with endless worry and fear? Would I be able to enjoy parenthood, now that I'd seen how terribly it could end, how deep of scars it could leave if the worst happened?

I didn't know. I was suddenly strangely glad I wouldn't have to. Drawing in a slow breath, I pressed my cheek against the top of Carlisle's head, thinking about all those things we'd been talking about. A soft, sad laugh left my lips.

"What?" Carlisle asked quietly, his arms tightening around me.

"Nothing. It just occurred to me it's the middle of the night, and here we are, talking about life purposes."

He chuckled. "Deep and meaningful conversations always tend to take place at night, I suppose." I felt him shift and pull away, and he rolled onto his back, drawing me against him. I rested my head on his chest and threw my arm around him. "What is your purpose, Bella?" he suddenly asked. "What do you think?"

"My purpose?" I smiled. "My purpose is to make sure the people of Seattle will always have coffee."

He gave a soft laugh. "You have a very important role to play, I admit. You make many people's mornings better. But...you have other purposes, too. Never forget that."

His words made me warm. "Like what?"

He pressed a soft kiss on my hair. "A moment ago, you said it hurts you that you can't help me. That all you have is just a few clumsy words. But that's not true, Bella. That's very far from the truth. Because, you do help me. I don't think I've ever told you just how much, but the truth is you do.

"I sometimes stop to think what would've happened if...if I'd never met you. What if your truck hadn't started to act up all those months ago? Or what if you'd decided to take a cab that one rainy night, and I hadn't run into you? What if you hadn't injured your hand, and therefore, I wouldn't have had a reason to bring you here to my house? What if I hadn't seen you with Rosalie at the restaurant a couple of days later?" He paused.

"You kept showing up whenever I least expected it, and...and when you eventually made it known you'd like to run into me in the future as well, I found it hard to believe you. I couldn't understand why such a captivating, young woman like you would choose to spend her time with a sullen, withdrawn man like me."

I chuckled at his description. "You never seemed sullen to me," I told him. "A little remote and...sorrowful, perhaps. I noticed it for the first time when you were taking care of my hand, and I remember wondering if you ever felt lonely in this big house. I wondered if that's what made you look so...sad. Rosalie and I spent a lot of time trying to figure you out, but the best theory we could come up with was that you'd lost your high school sweetheart or something."

His hand was stroking my hair idly. "Does...Rosalie know?" he asked quietly. "Why I've been behaving like I have?"

I tried to read his tone, but it was hard. "Yeah. A few days after you'd left, she came to see me. She wanted to know why you'd left, and I told her...everything. Maybe I should've just said to her that our thing ended because it didn't just work out, and that's why you decided to leave, but...I don't know. Be as it may, I never meant to disrespect your privacy by telling her."

"I know that," he assured me. "And I'm not upset that you told her. I understand why you did. She's your best friend, after all. And I'm sure you had a lot to deal with after hearing all those things from Edward, and you needed someone to talk to. Especially since...I wasn't there." His voice was apologetic.

"You're here now," I reminded him. "That's what matters."

He placed a kiss on my hair, and then he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me impossibly close to him and holding on tight. "And I'll stay," he promised, "If that's what you truly want, Bella. I'll never leave your side."

I smiled, pressing my ear against his chest and listening to the steady throb of his heart. "Are you staying because you're afraid Rosalie will make good on her threat and 'go medieval on your male parts,' like she promised?"

"A little," he admitted, chuckling.

"Well, you should be. She works at a beauty salon, which means she has an impressive variety of scissors, clippers and tweezers at her disposal."

He chuckled again. "I'll definitely bear that in mind."


	24. Something Deeper

_**"There's nothing so beautifully genuine as a broken-hearted person's love.**_

 _ **For, in giving it, they are saying, "Yes, I have been burned to smoke and ash for the ones I have loved.**_

 _ **I have been devoured, slowly, then spat back out.**_

 _ **And the probability suggests you are likely to ruin me, too.**_

 _ **But here, have my heart. Take it. I'd like you to."**_

\- Beau Taplin -

* * *

 **Something Deeper**

"Ow. Ow. _Ow_."

Rosalie rolled her eyes at my quiet whining. After adjusting the light, she began to work on my other eyebrow, causing me to glare at the tweezers she was holding.

"Stay still, Bella," she told me. "If you're a good girl, it'll soon be time for ice cubes and some special aloe vera gel."

"Sounds wonderful," I mumbled, closing my eyes and trying to relax. At least the salon's treatment chairs were comfortable and soft. The only thing that stopped me from nodding off was Rosalie...and her tweezers. "Ow."

"Almost done," she promised. "You look terrible, by the way."

"Thanks."

"No, seriously. Is everything okay? You're very pale."

I forced my eyes open, knowing she had a good reason to ask that. All week long, I'd felt like I'd been run over by a train. Apparently, I looked like it, too.

"I don't know. I've been awfully tired lately. I don't know why. I went to bed at eight last night, for instance, and I slept like ten hours. But even so, I didn't wake up when my alarm went off this morning. Carlisle had to wake me. He said he'd actually made sure first that I was breathing and everything – I still don't know if he was being serious or not." I stifled a yawn. "Maybe I'm coming down with something. I can't remember the last time I've been so tired."

"I've heard there's some nasty bug going around," Rosalie murmured. She pressed something cool against my eyebrows, making me close my eyes in bliss. "Drink some lemon and ginger tea. It should help."

"I'll pick some up on my way home."

"How are things otherwise?" she asked. "How's it going with Carlisle?"

"Can't complain. Everything's...perfect."

"Does Charlie know yet?" she asked, her voice teasing now. "About your new boyfriend?"

"No," I moaned.

She laughed. "Why on earth haven't you told him? I'm sure he'd be happy to hear you're in a serious relationship with a man who's just a few years younger than he is. I don't see the problem."

"Hell is filled with people who have an equally bad sense of humor as you."

"What? I'm serious. Come on, Bella, it can't be that bad. At least Charlie can be assured you're not dating some immature brat. That should make him happy."

"You're thinking positively. And I like that. But I have a feeling that, when Charlie hears about it, he won't be focusing on the positive things, at least not right away. I have no idea how he'll react when I tell him I'm seeing someone who's twenty years older than me."

"Have you told your mom? That you and Carlisle are giving this a real shot?"

I nodded, closing my eyes; the lights of the salon seemed suddenly too bright. I wondered if I was going to have a migraine attack again – maybe that explained this awful exhaustion. "She called me a few days ago, and I told her. She's very happy for me. She seemed to like Carlisle, when she saw him at my birthday party."

"Did you tell her about his past? That he had a daughter?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. I felt like that wasn't something that should be discussed over the phone. I promised we'd go see her and Phil in a couple of weeks – Carlisle suggested it, actually."

"How do you think she's going to react? When she realizes what you're giving up by choosing to be with him?"

I shrugged. "Well, I don't feel like I'm giving up anything. Not really. I've never really seen myself as a mother. And I understand why the thought of having more children is so hard for Carlisle. I'd never try to make him change his mind about it. As for what Renée will think...I don't know. She's never said anything about wanting to have grandchildren. I'm sure one reason is that she's never wanted to pressure me into anything. She'll be happy as long as I am." I sighed in delight, as Rosalie spread something – probably that aloe vera gel she'd mentioned – around and over my eyebrows.

"Well, I'm with your mom. As long as you're happy, so am I."

"I am happy. It almost freaks me out sometimes to feel like this."

She chuckled. "Well, when you're freaked out, that's a good sign. It means there's something important going on in here." She tapped the spot over my heart. "And how's Carlisle dealing with all this?" she asked. "Is he still feeling guilty about not being able to start a family with you?"

"Well, he seems to believe me when I say I want to be with him, no matter what. But I do think he feels a little responsible, in a way. Like he's taking away my choices. I sometimes catch him watching me, like...I don't know, like he expects me to change my mind and walk out the door any moment. I'm sure the time of year has some effect on it, too."

"What do you mean?"

"It'll be the anniversary of the accident this Saturday. I'm sure he's got a lot of unhappy stuff on his mind." I paused, hesitating. "He told me he and Esme visit the grave every year...and he asked me if I wanted to come with them to the cemetery. Esme's husband will be there, too, and apparently, Edward and his wife will come as well."

"You sound...surprised. Did you expect he wouldn't ask you to go with him?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I mean, this is something that seems so very intimate and private. This is a _family_ thing. So, I guess I'm a little surprised."

"Well, I know this occasion won't be exactly light and happy, but...it's almost like he's making a gesture," Rosalie mused. "Like he wants to show you he's serious with you. That he wants you to fully be a part of his life. That's the feeling I get."

I nodded, agreeing. "I'm suddenly kind of nervous, though. About meeting Esme."

"Why? You've already seen her."

"Yes, but I haven't _met_ her. I guess I'm a little...I don't know, intimidated by her." I gave a soft laugh. "She was so...classy and sophisticated, and curvy and well-dressed. I feel like a scrawny teenager whenever I even think about her. I can't help it. Even the way she was _breathing_ was so elegant. And do you want to know how elegant _I_ was this afternoon when I left the café? I walked into a door. And it wasn't even see-through, so I can't make excuses and say I didn't see it."

Rosalie laughed loudly. She touched my forehead, and I hissed; it was still tender. "I did notice you have a small bump here."

"What, you can _see_ it?"

"Yeah. It's bruising."

I sighed. Rosalie chuckled softly. "Alright, Bella. So, you walk into things. So, you stumble every now and then. So, you wear jeans and T-shirts instead of blazers and tight skirts. Maybe you're not a ballerina or a fashionista, but you're _you_ , and that's exactly why Carlisle fell in love with you. He doesn't want a copy of Esme, he wants _you_."

I nodded slowly, drawing in a deep breath. "I know that. And you're right. I think I should leave self-esteem problems for the teenagers. Besides...it's awfully cliché to be jealous of the ex-wife, isn't it?"

"Not to mention silly, if the ex is happily married to someone else."

"True." I cracked my eyes open, but closed them again, feeling incredibly sleepy. Rosalie wiped my eyebrows with something wet, and then she gave my shoulder a gentle nudge.

"Bella, if you fall asleep in my chair, I'm going to get some smelling salts. How does that sound?"

"Very unpleasant." I opened my eyes and yawned, slowly getting up. "Do you have another customer in line after me? Or are you done for the day?"

"I have a five o'clock coming in, but after that, I'm free. Do you want to do something? Catch a movie, maybe?"

"You know, I'd love to, but I have a feeling I won't be able to stay awake much longer. I have to take a nap. Another time?"

"Deal." She gave me a concerned frown. "Are you sure you can drive?"

I nodded. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

She made me drink a glass of ice water before leaving the salon, and it made me feel more alert. It was raining outside, and as I headed to my truck, I turned my face towards the sky, letting the cold raindrops fall on my skin.

As I drove to my apartment, I was disappointed when I saw Carlisle's car wasn't there, but then I remembered he would be working late today; he'd said this morning he had papers to grade. Making my way inside, I shrugged off my coat and dropped my bag on the couch, thinking idly that he'd probably be hungry by the time he was free, and I decided to make him dinner.

But first, I retrieved a glass of water and took a painkiller. My temples were throbbing slightly, and I didn't want this to turn into full-blown migraine. I toed off my shoes and sank into the armchair, deciding to rest my eyes while the painkiller took effect. I realized I'd forgotten to buy that tea Rosalie had recommended. That was the last rational thought I had, before my brain shut down.

I woke up to the feeling of someone touching my shoulder. I jumped violently, and at first, I didn't know where I was, not to mention what time it was. I felt like I'd been asleep just a few seconds.

Carlisle was kneeling in front of the armchair, an apologetic expression on his face. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm sorry I'm late. Are you hungry?"

I tried to clear my head, feeling foggy and disoriented. "What time is it?"

"It's almost seven."

"Oh." I closed my eyes and straightened. My neck protested the movement – taking a nap in the armchair had been a bad idea. "I was supposed to cook for you," I murmured, frowning regretfully. "I didn't mean to fall asleep like that."

"Don't worry about it. I picked something up on my way here. Are you hungry?" he asked again.

I shook my head, trying to keep my eyes open, but they kept closing.

"Are you alright?" Carlisle asked, sounding concerned. "Are you ill?"

This time, I _forced_ my eyes open. "I don't know. I feel weird. I thought it might be a migraine, so I took a painkiller. But I don't think it's that. I think I'm coming down with something."

He touched my forehead, frowning. "You're a bit warm. You're probably right – I heard there's a nasty virus going around. Some of my students were missing from class today."

"Maybe you shouldn't touch me. It's probably contagious."

"Don't be silly." He cupped my cheek tenderly, and then he touched my forehead again. I grimaced, as he ran a finger over the small bump; of course, it had to be still there. "What happened here?"

I rolled my eyes. It made me feel dizzy. "I walked into a door this afternoon. Go ahead. Laugh."

He chuckled softly. "I might," he said, "after I've asked you how _hard_ you walked into it."

"Not that hard. If you think I feel weird because I have a concussion, that's not it."

"Just checking," he chuckled again, and then he took my hand and helped me up. "Are you sure you're not hungry?"

I nodded. "I really wanted to cook for you, because you had to work so late. I feel bad. But maybe it's better I didn't. I don't want you to get whatever this is. If you want to, you can stay a few days at your house – I won't be offended."

Carlisle sighed and rolled his eyes in amused frustration. Then, he grabbed my waist and pulled me against him, capturing my lips in a heated kiss that made my legs all wobbly and sent my head spinning. When he broke away from my mouth several moments later, my heart was racing, and I was out of breath. Despite my weariness, I suddenly felt wired in a very pleasant way.

"Like I said a few days ago, Bella," he told me softly, his eyes surprisingly serious, "I won't leave your side. And I'm not going to quarantine myself, just because you feel a little unwell. I'm staying here with you. In sickness...and in health, right?"

"Carlisle, that's a wedding vow," I murmured, rolling my eyes, still a little dizzy from his kiss.

He was silent for a long moment, stroking a finger over my cheek. "Yes," he answered slowly, "It is." He just watched me for a while, and then he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, steering me towards the hallway. "Let's get you to bed. You look exhausted."

I felt exhausted, too. So exhausted I didn't have the energy to wonder what his words meant. I let him lead me to the bedroom, feeling only half-conscious, as he helped me undress. After I'd crawled into bed, Carlisle pulled the covers over me, but I knew nothing about that; I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

If my mind had been a bit clearer, or if I'd at least stayed awake for a moment more, I would have realized my migraines had never started with fatigue this strong ever before.

* * *

Whatever mysterious bug was causing my weariness, I began to feel a little better as the week passed. I was running a slight temperature on Friday, and just to be safe, I called the café and asked for a day off. Luckily, I wouldn't have any shifts during the weekend, and by Saturday morning, I was starting to feel like a human again.

Not that I was focusing on myself that much – my attention was on Carlisle. When I woke up in the morning at his house, the bed beside me was empty. It didn't surprise me. Considering what day it was, I knew he probably wanted a moment alone.

That was why I didn't rush as I took a shower and got dressed. I took my time, and after blow-drying my hair and brushing my teeth, I walked through the silent house, finding Carlisle in the kitchen. He was standing in front of the large window that looked out onto the street, staring at the grey November sky. He turned as he heard my approach, giving me a small smile. He met me halfway as I crossed the kitchen to him.

"Morning," I said, as I gave his cheek a quick, careful kiss – I was still worried about making him sick, too. I chuckled as he wrapped his arms around me and dipped me down into a Hollywood-style kiss; apparently, he thought a friendly, innocent kiss on the cheek was no way to start the day.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked me, pulling me against him. "You don't have to come with us today, if you don't feel up to it. Esme would understand, and so would I, of course."

I shook my head. "I'm feeling better. And…I wanted you to know I appreciate it that you asked me to go with you. I mean, this is a family thing. It's very personal, and...well, I'm honored that you want me there."

His blue eyes grew very soft. "Of course, I want you there," he whispered. "Bella, listen, I know the way we started off was..." He hesitated, searching for words. "Well, I'm just trying to say that I should've told you more about myself, about my life, much earlier. Way much earlier. I regret that I didn't."

"Carlisle, we've been over this," I said softly. "I understand why you didn't. Why you felt like you couldn't."

"I know that. But lately, I've come to realize that, by keeping certain parts of my life under wraps, I dishonor...Alice…" – he still faltered at her name – "…and it's the same thing as if I denied her existence. And I don't want to do that. Because she was really born, and she really existed, and her life made me a better person. And when she...died...it didn't only feel like she took a part of me with her – it felt like she took everything I was, everything I used to be, and everything I wanted to be. And that feeling...it has ruled me for a very long time."

He paused, his blue eyes full of shadows. "Not any longer, though. Fourteen years ago today, my life as I knew it ended. But my life as I know it now...it's very different from the darkness that used to hover over me almost constantly. The thought of never meeting you..." He shook his head and fell silent.

I took his hand and brought it to my cheek, smiling softly. "I love you."

"And I you," he answered and pulled me against his chest. "I don't want there to be any secrets between us anymore. I don't want there to be anything left unsaid, Bella. I finally realize that."

"No secrets," I agreed.

"If there's something we need to say to each other, we'll say it. Deal?"

"Deal," I promised and pulled back. "Sounds very good to me."

He smiled, placing a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. "Would something else sound good? Breakfast, perhaps?"

I shook my head. "I think I'll pass. I still don't have any appetite."

He frowned, touching his knuckles to my cheek; his skin was pleasantly cool. "How about some coffee? Or tea?"

For some reason, even the thought of coffee turned my stomach. It was strange – normally, my day never started without caffeine. "Actually, tea sounds nice. Better than coffee, anyway."

Carlisle didn't seem to be in the mood for breakfast, either, and he had a cup of coffee while I nursed my tea. Before we had to leave, I made a quick trip to the bedroom, putting on an extra sweater; maybe the day was colder than normal, or maybe it was just me, but I was freezing.

We were silent, as we drove the short distance to the cemetery. I kept giving Carlisle worried glances every now and then; he seemed to be deep in thought. As we pulled into the parking lot of the cemetery, I noticed Esme and her husband were already there. Esme was holding a single, white rose in her fingers. Carlisle had brought one, too.

I was still a little nervous about meeting Esme, but as we got out of the car, the feeling disappeared. One reason was that she gave me no time to feel nervous; she rushed toward us with impatient steps, and after pressing a quick kiss on Carlisle's cheek, she turned to me and wordlessly enveloped me in a warm and tight embrace. I recovered from my surprise quickly and hugged her back a little hesitantly. I saw Carlisle exchange a slightly amused and knowing glance with the brown-haired man who had trailed after Esme; apparently, she was always this warm and familiar, even with strangers.

"Let the poor woman breathe, Esme," a familiar, teasing voice said somewhere behind me. "You're going to traumatize Carlisle's new girlfriend."

She chuckled and pulled away, but otherwise ignored Edward; I wondered when he had arrived. "Forgive me, Bella. It's just so nice to meet you finally." The smile on her heart-shaped face was genuinely sincere and warm. "I've heard so much about you."

I returned her smile, and then I forgot about my earlier nervousness altogether. I was introduced to Esme's husband, Bob Banner, and I learned he was a biology professor at the university – that must have been how Carlisle knew him so well, I realized.

Edward hadn't come alone; his wife and two children were with him. Irina was blonde and very tall, almost as tall as Edward, and she seemed to relate to his odd sense of humor with amused frustration. Their son, Seth, had the same green eyes his father did, and his blond, unruly hair was wind-blown and disheveled. He was a typical nine-year-old, full of pent-up energy, and Irina was having trouble making him behave. He kept still long enough to shake my hand, and then he darted off at full speed.

"Hey!" Edward called after him. "Remember what we talked about at home? No running in the cemetery."

"But we're still in the parking lot, Dad."

Edward rolled his eyes. "And you think _this_ is a safe place to run around? That's smart."

Seth giggled.

"You know, the parking lot of the cemetery is haunted," Edward said offhandedly. "The spirits resting in those graves come out here to observe how young children behave. When it's daylight, they're invisible, but when the night comes..." he trailed off dramatically.

Irina smacked his arm. "Cut it out. Try not to be inappropriate, at least this once. And besides, you're scaring Elizabeth."

A little girl with bronze, curly hair was standing a few feet away from us. Her blue eyes were wide and fearful; as soon as Edward had started to talk about spirits resting in the graves, she'd disentangled her hand from her father's and had slowly begun to back away from our group, throwing alarmed glances toward the cemetery.

Carlisle gave me the white rose he was holding, and then he made his way to her, crouching down, so he was eye level with her. "Don't mind him," I heard him say quietly. "Want to know a secret? When your father was little, he always snuck into my room, because he was afraid of the dark. He claimed there was a monster under his bed. And he always, _always_ slept with lights on."

A small, shy smile made its way to the girl's lips.

"Hey!" Edward's voice was mock-indignant. "You're destroying my credibility in front of my children. Not cool, Bro."

"I wasn't aware you had any credibility," Carlisle answered in a dry manner, lifting Elizabeth into his arms and carrying her back to us. "In any case, I suggest you re-evaluate your disciplinary techniques."

I barely heard their playful banter. Seeing Carlisle carrying a small child in his arms...there was something about the sight that made my insides shift and my heart waver. I glanced at the ground, blinking rapidly, thinking it was the cold wind that made my eyes water. Right?

What was the matter with me? Why was I suddenly so emotional? Sure, it was a sad day, and I knew the upcoming hours had to be hard for Carlisle. Of course, I empathized with him. But still, having tears in my eyes was...odd. Unexpected.

Irina took Elizabeth from Carlisle, giving him a sad smile. It seemed to remind everyone why we were here, and the quiet, light conversation ceased. Mr. Banner – or Bob, he had told me to call him – took Esme's arm and began to lead her toward the cemetery. Edward caught up with Seth and took his hand.

"Come on," I heard him murmur quietly, his normally playful voice suddenly heavy. "Let's go say hello to Alice."

Irina followed them with Elizabeth. I turned to look Carlisle's way, and I saw he was staring at the cemetery with dark, shadowed eyes. I went to him, giving him the rose, and he took it. Without saying a word, he offered me his arm. I slid my hand into the crook of his elbow, and after staring at the sea of gravestones one more moment, we followed the others.

I'd always found cemeteries both creepy and peaceful. When I'd been little, I remembered my grandmother had once said one shouldn't make noise when visiting a cemetery, because the people there were sleeping. For some reason, her words had stuck with me. When she'd passed away a couple of years later, I remembered I'd tried to walk very quietly, when I'd later visited her grave with my mom. Maybe I'd been afraid of waking someone up.

As we stopped in front of a small, marble gravestone a moment later, the wind seemed to turn colder. I stared at the letters and numbers carved into the stone, and I didn't feel just cold, then. I felt somehow heavier, older, as I read the name of the girl who'd never celebrated her fifth birthday.

 _Mary Alice Cullen, April 8. 1996 – November 14. 2000._

I didn't notice Esme was crying silent tears, until Carlisle suddenly went to her, touching her shoulder in a gentle, soothing gesture. Bob gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and then, he stepped back and went to stand next to Edward and Irina.

Carlisle crouched down to place his rose in front of the gravestone. Esme did the same; her fingers were trembling. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe she was cold. If she was, I was pretty sure it wasn't the weather that made her cold. Carlisle touched her shoulder again as they straightened, and then, Edward was suddenly there, placing one more white rose on the grave.

I heard Seth whispering something to his mother; the wind nearly swallowed his voice. "I thought we were supposed to say hello to cousin Alice. Why aren't they saying anything, then?"

"They are," Irina whispered back. "We just can't hear it, sweetie."

"But she can?" Elizabeth asked.

It was a moment before Irina answered. Her voice was very quiet when she did. "Maybe. I hope so."

The children didn't ask anything else. No one else was speaking, either. Probably because there were no words. At least that was how I felt like.

We left the grave a while later. Seth's energy was back, when he realized it was time to go back home, and Irina and Edward had to chase after him. Carlisle seemed to be somewhere far away, and I noticed Bob attempting to engage him in a conversation. That was when Esme fell into step beside me; it surprised me a bit. I slowed my steps to match my pace to hers, and that was why we dropped behind from the others. She was wiping the corners of her eyes.

"This is a beautiful tradition," I told her quietly, suddenly feeling like I didn't know what to say. "You do this every year?"

Esme smiled and nodded. "Now, we do – it was Edward's idea, actually, that we all go together. In the beginning...well, in the beginning, it was just me. Carlisle...he wouldn't come here for the first couple of years. He was afraid to, I guess. Seeing the grave...it makes it somehow more real, you know? But there's something...something healing about it, too. It just took him some time to realize it." She paused, giving me a sad smile. "And now...he just has to accept it as well. That there'll be healing."

I nodded slowly. "You don't think he's accepted it yet?"

Esme looked at the two men who were walking about a dozen yards ahead of us. "I think he's getting there. I sense something new in him, something I haven't seen in many years. You're the reason for it, I'm sure. And I want to thank you, Bella. Thank you for reminding him what life is really about."

"I'm not sure if I've really done anything," I disagreed lightly.

Esme met my gaze. "That's where you're wrong, dear," she said softly. "You showed him life isn't just shades of grey and black, or different levels of darkness. I was never able to do that, after what happened to Alice." She paused, searching for words. "I can imagine...that it hasn't been very easy for you, dealing with him – I know how stubborn and frustrating Carlisle can be. How easily he withdraws into himself. And how hard it is to bring him out again."

I hesitated. "I do feel...a little out of balance sometimes. From the beginning, I tried to respect his boundaries, and I was always worried about bringing up a tender topic, for instance. It was difficult, especially because I had no idea what was going on with him back then."

"And now that you do know?"

I considered her question, trying to find the right words. It surprised me a bit how openly I could talk to her – I had expected this to be more awkward, but it was like I had known her for much longer than just a few moments. But then again, Esme knew Carlisle, and she understood him, and that was probably why I found it so easy to talk to her about these matters.

"I don't know. Now, I feel like I have better chances at understanding him, but sometimes, I still feel like I'm tiptoeing around him, you know? But it could be my uncertainty talking. I sometimes feel...inadequate. I want to be there for him, but I have no idea how. I have no idea what he's going through. Since I've never had a child, I've never had to lose one. I don't know what you two have been going through for these past years, so I feel like...I never know what to say."

Esme nodded. "You don't have to know," she said quietly. "And you don't have to say anything. Just be there. Keep doing what you've been doing. I know, it must sound silly and not helpful at all. But the truth is, there's a reason why you've gotten this far with him. It means you're doing something right. And he really likes you; I could see it from his eyes, when he first told me about you. He was scared out of his mind, you know." She chuckled and shook her head; the memory seemed to amuse her.

I gave her a small smile. "I guess I owe you one for that. Carlisle told me you were there, talking some sense to him and keeping him from flipping out completely."

She chuckled again. "You owe me nothing, Bella. On the contrary. I can't even tell how glad it makes me to see him happy with someone. To see he's no longer alone. I've been praying for this to happen for so many years. If only..." she trailed off and shook her head, her brown eyes suddenly sad.

"What?" I asked, something about her expression catching my attention.

She gave me a small, sorrowful smile. "If only he'd let go of...all of his demons. A young woman like you..." She fell silent again, but she didn't need to finish her sentence. I knew what lay behind her words.

"We've discussed that. I know that...it'll be just the two of us," I said slowly. "I'm okay with it. I just want to be with him. That's more than enough for me."

Esme nodded, accepting my words. "Well, that's what matters the most."

We were almost at the parking lot by now; Carlisle and Bob were still deep in conversation, and I was relieved to notice there was more life in Carlisle's face now. I wondered if leaving the grave was always easier than going there. Maybe.

Edward and Irina were ushering Seth into the car; I noticed the knee of his pants was torn. I'd suppose he hadn't obeyed Edward's command not to run in the cemetery, or maybe he was trying to find out if his father's words about the restless spirits were true or not. I wondered if he'd sleep with a flashlight tonight.

Before we reached the cars, Esme touched my arm and stopped me. She pulled a pen and something that looked like a business card from her pocket, scribbling down a number on it.

"This is my cell phone number," she told me, giving me the card. "There's a number for my office as well, if you ever need to reach me. I'd like to get together sometime. And if you ever just need to talk..." she smiled warmly.

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind." I was very touched by her gesture.

"You and Carlisle should come to dinner some night. I know he doesn't like to come to our house, because it reminds him about things too much, but..." She let out a quiet sigh, her brown, kind eyes suddenly very earnest, almost desperate. She took my hand and held it tightly. "Maybe...it'll be different for him someday. Maybe he'll learn to see things like I've seen them for a long time now. I don't mean to put too much pressure on you, Bella, but...I have a really good feeling about this. About you and him. You'll do all you can to help him, won't you?"

"Of course," I promised, a little taken aback by her outburst. It was easy to see she still cared about Carlisle very much, and his well-being meant a lot to her. "I'll talk about the dinner thing with him. Let's see what he says."

She smiled. "You know, I have a feeling that, if anyone's going to convince him, it's you. He has a soft spot for you, that much is obvious. Edward thinks so as well."

I gave a confused laugh, not knowing what to say to that; her words flattered me. For weeks, my relationship with Carlisle had rested on such uncertain foundations, that it still felt almost unreal that we were here now. That we were truly giving this a real shot. It was more than I could have ever hoped for.

I remembered my earlier uncertainty, whenever I'd been even thinking about Esme, and as I watched her now and saw how she interacted with the people around her, I realized it had been a waste of energy, being nervous. After exchanging a few more words with me, she went to Carlisle, giving him a warm embrace and whispering something in his ear. Carlisle smiled sadly and nodded. He pressed a soft kiss on her cheek, and then Esme pulled back, taking Bob's arm. They headed to their car, after bidding farewell to Edward and Irina.

Carlisle was very quiet on the drive back to his house. He still appeared to be deep in thought, and I didn't quite know how to approach him. He didn't seem troubled or depressed, only pensive. I'd expected this day and the visit to the cemetery to cause more anxiety, but his expression was calm, almost unreadable.

"Are you okay?" I asked, as he signaled and turned onto his street. My question seemed to break through some hard, invisible wall he'd raised against the world. He gave me a quick glance, almost as if he'd only now realized where we were. After he'd pulled up in front of his house and cut the engine, he let out a quiet, long sigh.

"I'm...I'm getting there," he said slowly, giving me a distracted smile. "I suppose I keep thinking about all those times I've come home from the cemetery by myself. I always refused to admit how hard it was to walk into an empty, dark home. And for the first time in years...I feel like I can breathe, as I walk through that door," he nodded toward the house. "When I woke up this morning, for the first time, I felt like I might actually...survive this day. The feeling was surreal." He shook his head and looked at me, taking my hand and bringing my knuckles to his lips.

The look in his eyes was intense, so full of some unspoken feeling, that it made me feel almost nervous. In a pleasant way, though. I was too lost in his gaze to say anything, and as he reached out a hand to cup my cheek, I closed my eyes. When I opened them a moment later, I noticed he was frowning slightly.

"You're still a bit warm," he noted, pressing his hand to my temple. "Maybe you should've stayed home, after all. I'm sure the cold wind didn't help you get better."

"But I am better," I insisted. "I guess I just managed to catch some annoying, persistent bug, that's all. A lot of people pass through the café, after all. There are germs everywhere. The new waiter was sick last week, too."

"Well, in any case, let's get you inside. Better to be safe than sorry."

He got out of the car, and after I'd stepped out myself, he closed the passenger door and wrapped an arm around my waist. We made our way to the front door and entered the silent house, and after we'd gotten rid of our coats, Carlisle suddenly took hold of my shoulders and pulled me against him.

"Thank you for coming today, Bella. It means the world to me that you were there – that you're _here_. I don't say that nearly often enough." He pulled back and framed my face with his hands, pressing a soft kiss on my forehead.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," I answered, wrapping my arms behind his neck and holding him close. I couldn't see the smile on his lips, but I could feel it. It was in the touch of his hands, as he took hold of my waist, and it was in his quiet breathing, as he pressed his face into my hair.

It occurred to me only later that I began to feel it, too, what Esme had been talking about. She'd said she'd sensed something new in Carlisle, something she hadn't seen in many years. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was trust and faith in tomorrow. Maybe it was something else, something deeper, or maybe it was all those things combined. And even though I had never had to experience all those horrible things Carlisle had once been forced to go through, I, too, began to catch glimpses of that new, wonderful sense of peace that had settled over him. Over us. I, too, began to feel as though everything was going to be okay. Like everything was right in the world.

Like the universe itself was in perfect alignment.


	25. Where We Started

" _ **I ignored your aura, but it grabbed me by the hand,**_

 _ **like the moon pulled the tide, and the tide pulled the sand."**_

\- Talib Kweli -

* * *

 **Where We Started**

More than once during the next couple of days, I had an urge to pinch myself to find out if all this was just a good dream. Everything was going so... _well_. I'd suppose that was something I wasn't used to, and I felt as though I was riding a wave of continuous bliss.

One afternoon, Carlisle picked me up from work after my shift. As I got into his car and buckled up my seatbelt, I noticed he was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in a nervous manner. He flashed me a distracted smile; his eyes were oddly bright.

"You okay?" I asked, chuckling. "You look like you've downed a bottle of caffeine pills."

He pulled in a deep breath and then released it slowly. "Do I?" Instead of explaining his strange restlessness, he put the car into gear and began to drive. I shrugged inwardly, thinking to myself that maybe he'd had a long day.

"Could we stop by my apartment before heading to your house?" I asked. "I need to get some things. I'm running out of clean clothes."

Maybe I'd imagined it, but he almost looked relieved. It was as if my suggestion had given him the excuse to postpone something...unpleasant? Or maybe it wasn't something unpleasant, but he did relax visibly. It was impossible not to notice.

"Of course." He was silent for a short moment. "Does it ever bother you...going back and forth all the time?"

I shrugged. "It takes some planning, I guess. And if I sometimes forget to bring something with me, or if I happen to leave something at your house, it's kind of frustrating. But I can live with it." I gave him a curious glance. "Why? Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he answered quickly, and then he changed the subject, asking me how my day had been. I told him about a young mother who had come to the café with her small son. At some point, the boy had fallen off his chair and hit the underside of his chin on the table, slicing it open. Carlisle grimaced and hissed in sympathy.

"The other waitress was swamped, and she couldn't help them, of course," I told him, "and there was a little too much blood for my liking – of course."

"Of course," he echoed and gave an amused chuckle.

"Luckily, I happen to know the contents of the first-aid kit very well – for obvious reasons – and my job was to hold my breath and give more gauze to the child's mother, as she tried to keep the bleeding under control. While they were waiting for the cab, I tried to keep the boy entertained by showing him some of my scars, including the one I myself have under my chin. It seemed to comfort him to see I was still alive and well, despite having so many accidents. At least he stopped crying and began to ask questions, and I ended up telling him about my numerous little blunders and mishaps."

Carlisle laughed softly. "It takes some skill to distract a crying child who's in pain. I salute you. You'd make a great nurse."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yeah, sure. If a nurse is supposed to drop unconscious at the sight of blood, I'd make a fine one."

He laughed again. "You know, some people can get over hemophobia. I remember back in med school, there was always someone who kept passing out every now and then. But they got over it eventually – exposure is a very efficient way to conquer fears." He frowned, then, probably realizing that, for a very long time, he hadn't followed that advice himself. But now, he was, in a way. In many ways. He was taking little steps forward, instead of standing completely still.

"The human mind is stronger than it seems. More powerful than many expect or believe," I mused.

He smiled softly and reached over the console to hold my hand briefly. "And sometimes...sometimes it takes the mind of another, a sweet, generous mind, to realize the strength of your own."

His words made me blush, and I was glad we arrived at my apartment, then. As we went inside, I tried to distract myself from his bottomless blue eyes, from the deep appreciation in them. Trying to ignore the way he was watching me, but at the same time, feeling flattered that he was, I threw some clothes into my bag and grabbed a stack of books I'd borrowed from his library a few days ago. Carlisle insisted on carrying my bag to the car, and as we drove to his house, I thought I saw that earlier, strange restlessness return to his features. As soon as I noticed it, though, it seemed to disappear.

We made dinner together; this was a ritual we broke only if I had to work a later shift. There was something familiar and comforting about bustling away in the same kitchen, about bumping into each other every now and then, sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose. There had been more than one occasion, when Carlisle had reached around me to grab a spoon or a knife, for instance, and instead of taking whatever kitchen utensil he had needed, he had suddenly pressed his lips to the side of my neck and wrapped his arms around me from behind. That had usually made me turn around and claim his lips with my own, and before I'd even realized it, he had lifted me onto the kitchen counter, and his hands had begun to work on my clothes. One time, we'd burned our dinner and ruined an expensive saucepan like that – getting a little distracted in the middle of cooking was too easy. Too tempting.

Tonight, though, we behaved ourselves. I was suddenly crazy hungry, and the spicy tomato basil soup we'd made tasted like heaven. Usually, I didn't like spicy, salty foods much, and that was why it confused me a bit that I ended up enjoying it so much.

Carlisle, on the other hand, didn't seem to have much of an appetite. He was uncommonly quiet as he nibbled at his food, and he kept staring at his plate, almost like he was trying to avoid eye contact with me.

"Too much salt?" I asked and nodded toward his soup. "Too much basil? Too much...something?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No. I had a big lunch, I guess."

For some reason, I had a feeling he wasn't being completely honest. I wanted to ask him what was bothering him, but I knew from experience that the best way to get him talking was to give him some space. Peppering him with questions never helped.

There was something like relief in his eyes, when I finally put away my spoon and brought a napkin to my mouth.

"Bella..." He clearly hesitated. "Would you take a walk with me?"

His question surprised me. I glanced at the window; it would be dark in half an hour, but at least it wasn't raining outside.

"Okay. Of course." I began to gather our plates and glasses to take them to the sink, but he placed a hand over mine.

"Leave them," he said softly and gave me a brief smile. It was almost like he was suddenly impatient or anxious about something.

I tried not to worry, as we put on our coats and stepped outside into the November chill, and I tried not to worry, as Carlisle remained quiet for several long minutes as we walked, our pace slow and unhurried. He kept his eyes constantly on the sidewalk, and as his responses to my attempts to start a conversation were eventually limited to monosyllables, that was when I decided I'd had enough.

"What is _wrong?"_ I huffed, throwing my hands in the air in frustration. "I can't take this anymore!"

My words made him jump, and he looked a little baffled, like he'd become aware of his surroundings only now.

"What do you mean?" he asked with forced casualness.

"What do I mean? I mean _this,_ " I gestured between us. "You've been behaving strangely all afternoon, you didn't eat, and you look like a deer caught in the headlights whenever you look at me. What's the _matter?_ What's bothering you?"

"You noticed?" he asked quietly.

"Of course I noticed! How could I not? I'm not _blind_."

He opened his mouth to say something, but he hesitated. When his eyes avoided mine again, I stopped, forcing him to stop as well.

"Carlisle, you're scaring me. Just...just tell me what's wrong. Please."

Something about my voice seemed to alert him. He took my hand, holding it tightly, and this time, he didn't look away as my eyes searched his.

"Nothing is wrong," he assured. "I promise you, Bella."

"Then what's going on with you?"

He let out a quiet sigh, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and beginning to walk again. I had no choice but to follow. He pulled me close against his side, matching his pace to mine. I waited patiently on the outside, but I was fidgeting inwardly in frustration.

After a couple of moments, Carlisle stopped and turned to face me. He removed his arm from my shoulders and took my hand again, lacing his fingers with mine. A car drove by, and he waited until it had passed.

"Do you remember...do you realize where we are?" he asked hesitantly, his voice quiet.

I looked around me, but I didn't answer. His question confused me – of course I knew where we were. It wasn't the first time we'd gone for a walk here. The cemetery was just a few dozen yards away from where we were standing, and I wondered if that had something to do with his strange question.

A small smile appeared on Carlisle's lips as he saw my confusion, but his blue eyes were serious. Earnest. He began to speak again, not waiting for my answer.

"This is where I ran after you all those weeks ago. This is where I caught up with you. This is where I kissed you for the very first time."

I closed my eyes in realization, giving a soft laugh. "Right. Of course, I remember."

He brought up his free hand and stroked his knuckles over my jawline. "You were upset," he murmured softly. "You were hurt that I hadn't called you, and when you saw me come from the cemetery, you turned around and walked the other way, hoping I hadn't seen you. You thought I just wanted to clear my conscience, to apologize that I hadn't called you, and you were in such a hurry to get away from me."

"That's not exactly true. I didn't _want_ to get away from you – I felt like walking away was agonizing, and it was strange, because I barely even knew you back then. I wanted to get away from you, because I didn't want to cry in front of you. Because I didn't want you to see how unreasonably much it hurt me that you hadn't called."

His hand cupped my cheek. "But I did see it," he murmured. "And I was afraid to consider what it meant. But at the same time, I was in seventh heaven, as I realized you really liked me that much. That you were disappointed enough to _cry_ over me." He gave a soft, confused laugh and shook his head, as if the mere notion was somehow hard to comprehend. "And that's when I realized...I couldn't let you walk away. That I had to...have you. No matter how foolish it was, no matter how hard my heart tried to warn me not to."

I gave him a sad smile. "That's the thing about broken hearts, I suppose; they can't see clearly. They try to preserve and protect the little that's left and unbroken."

He nodded. "But you were able to see clearly when I couldn't. Maybe...your heart was always whole enough for the both of us. And the way it stole its way into my mine..." he trailed off and shook his head again. "It happened so stealthily. I suddenly found it hard to imagine what my life would be like if you were no longer in it. The thought...it frightened me. It frightens me still, Bella. More than you can imagine."

I squeezed his hand, tightening my fingers around his. "But you faced that fear. Maybe you still are, but the most important thing is, you're facing it instead of running away from it."

He smiled. "You know, I've lately found that, things I've thought to be terrifying, things that have brought me pain in the past...I think I've finally learned to remember that, if there's pain, there's also beauty. Happiness. I've learned that, even though one of them may sometimes overshadow the other, it doesn't have to last forever. The undeniable truth may be that everything in life has a flip side, and my worst mistake has been that I've always focused on that darker side. And I've let it rule my decisions and thoughts for a very long time."

He paused, drawing in a shallow breath. "Bella, there are still...lines...that I can probably never cross. There are still fears that'll always be more than mere fears to me. There are still things I can't offer you, things you'll lose, things you'd deserve, things some other man would be able to give you–"

I shook my head, raising a finger to his lips and silencing him. "You're the only man I could ever want. I've never been this sure about anything else before. So, stop thinking about the things you can't give me. All I want is you. That's all I'm asking. And that's all I'll ever need."

He let go of my hand and cradled my face with his palms. "Are you sure?" he asked, his blue eyes burning with some strange intensity.

"Yes," I answered.

" _Absolutely_ sure?"

I nodded, giving a confused laugh; the look of pure astonishment on his face was humbling to witness. And that smile on his lips – I'd never seen him smile like that. He let out a shaky breath and gave a soft, amazed laugh, and then he took both of my hands in his and kissed my knuckles.

"Bella, do you remember when I once told you that I'm a traditional, old-fashioned man?" he suddenly asked, holding my gaze.

"Yeah," I answered slowly and narrowed my eyes.

"And I also told you that I think stability and getting to share your life with someone are important, meaningful things?"

"Yeah," I said again, nodding slowly. "Where are you going with this, Carlisle? Why did you bring me here?"

He smiled softly. "Because of what I told you. Because this is where I kissed you. Because this is where I held you in my arms for the first time. Because this is where we started. I brought you here, because I'm a sentimental, foolish man, and because I hope that, when we return here years later, you won't just remember our first kiss, but you'll also remember this."

All I could do was just stare at him, as he lowered himself on one knee and took my left hand in both of his.

"Bella," he began, a small, nervous smile playing on his lips, "I know we haven't known each other for long. All I know is you talk in your sleep, that you read at least twenty books in a week, and that seeing blood makes you queasy. All I know is, if you feel hurt by me, you take off that necklace I gave you, and you lock it away in your bedroom drawer, and after that, you take the key and you put it in the freezer, and I find that very endearing. All I know is it annoys you if I leave the shampoo bottle uncapped, and all I know is you sometimes walk into doors – even if they're not see-through, and by all accounts, you should be able to see them – and all I know is the smell of lavender puts you to sleep. All I know is I love you, and I'll keep on loving you, regardless of how much it sometimes scares me. And all I know is I want nothing more than to make you my wife someday. Bella, will you marry me?"

I tried to remember how to breathe, how to blink. How to form coherent thoughts, not to mention words. I just kept staring at him, and apparently, that continued for a very long time, because something like worry or uncertainty passed in Carlisle's eyes. I suddenly had high respect for his nerves – those moments must have felt like forever.

And here I was, standing completely dumbfounded, torturing him with my silence and forcing him to stay on one knee before me. The sidewalk had to be wet and dirty, but it was as if he didn't even notice. All he saw was...me.

And I understood. Because all I saw was him, and just him. I was barely aware of the smile making its way to my lips, barely aware of the way my fingers wrapped around his. But I was fully aware of the quiet answer leaving my mouth, fully aware of the way my heart stuttered, as I saw Carlisle's reaction.

"Yes," I whispered, laughing softly. "Yes, I'll marry you."

I couldn't read the look in his eyes. It was something more than softness, something deeper than wonderment. Something calmer than peace itself. I realized I'd never seen him look like that, like the storm in his blue eyes had finally ceased and left behind an even, unbroken surface.

He stood up slowly, and then he drew me to him, wrapping his arms around me and nearly crushing me against his chest. As his lips found mine, I realized this kiss was different from all the others we'd shared. It was...free. Fearless. It hid nothing.

Just like we no longer hid from each other.

* * *

When we finally broke away from each other, we were both out of breath. Carlisle pressed a soft kiss on my cheek, and then he did something I hadn't expected.

He began to laugh quietly.

I drew back, perplexed. He shook his head, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, and that was when I began to laugh, too.

"Were you _that_ nervous about my answer?" I asked, incredulous. I pulled out a tissue from my pocket and handed it to him. He took it, dragging it across his forehead, and another soft laugh left his lips. His eyes danced.

"Of course I was. I take it you've never proposed to anyone?"

"Well, I guess it's not something one does every day," I granted. I took the tissue from him and stepped closer, wrapping my arms behind his neck. "But, you know, since you were so uncertain about my answer, it can only mean I've failed in my mission. I obviously haven't managed to show you properly how fond I am of you. That error must be corrected as soon as possible, don't you think?"

He smiled, catching my lips in a brief kiss. "That sounds very tempting. But first...would you like to see the ring?"

"You got me a ring?"

He laughed softly. "I told you. I'm a very traditional, old-fashioned man. I was supposed to show it to you as I got down on one knee, but...I had so many things to say to you, and I got sidetracked." He pulled away slightly, taking a small velvet box from his pocket and opening the lid.

Inside, there was a simple silver ring with a small sapphire; it matched the necklace he had given me on my birthday.

"Wow." The word came out as a quiet breath. I didn't know what to say. The ring...it was beautiful. I wasn't even wearing it yet, and already, I was scared of breaking it or something.

"Do you like it?" Carlisle asked, his voice soft.

"Of course. I'm already kind of worried about breaking it – or losing it. What if I drop it in someone's coffee cup at the café?"

He chuckled. "Then you'll have to ask for a bigger tip," he jested, pulling the ring out of the box and taking my hand. After sliding the ring onto my finger, he pulled me to his chest again, dropping a sweet kiss on my lips.

"You've made me a very happy man just now, Bella. Thank you...for everything. Thank you for...for owning such a ridiculously old truck."

I frowned confusedly. "Um, okay?"

He gave a soft laugh. "If you hadn't had problems with starting it all those months ago, we never would've met. So…thank you. Thank you for being you. For being the moon to my tide. Thank you for...not giving up on me."

"Maybe I never gave up on you, but what's more important is, you never gave up on yourself. You just needed to realize it." I wound my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer for a swift kiss. I chuckled against his lips, as a sudden thought came to me.

"What?" he asked, confused about my sudden amusement.

I shook my head, giving a soft laugh. "I just realized…now, I really, _really_ have to tell Charlie about what's going on. I'm _engaged_ , for crying out loud! And he doesn't even know I've been seeing someone!"

Carlisle bit his lip, torn between amused and worried. "He's not going to like me, is he? I must say, I'd understand. He can't be much older than I am."

"He's a few years older than you are. But in the end, it doesn't matter what he thinks."

"Of course, it matters," he disagreed. "He's your father."

"Well, of course it'd be important to me that he could be happy for me. But I know that might not happen right away – I'm not naive. He'll need some time to come to terms with the idea that I'm going to spend my life with someone who's a little older than me. But he also has to accept the fact that I'm a grown-up, and I'm going to make my own choices."

He nodded, letting out a quiet sigh. "That's very wise of you. I'd just hate it if my relationship with you came between you and your father. That wouldn't be...right."

"Nothing's going to come between anything. Let's just take it one day at a time. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

He nodded again, stroking my cheek with his hand gently. "I agree. We don't have to rush. That goes for getting married as well. It doesn't have to happen tomorrow – I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you or rushing you into anything."

"I know that. And besides, we haven't even been living together yet. Not officially, anyway. Think about all those terrible things you can still discover about me. Maybe I'm horribly messy, and I leave my socks everywhere. Or maybe you'll find out I eat pizza with whipped cream, and you'll find that so gross that you can't live with it. And then you'll have to get rid of me and call the whole thing off. Don't get too comfortable – there are still many, _many_ interesting obstacles ahead of us."

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. We turned around and began to head back to his house.

"Pizza with whipped cream does sound...revolting," he admitted, a glimmer in his eyes. "But you know, Bella, I think I could take it. You're worth abominable food combinations."

That was a very strange compliment, but even so, it flattered me.

I couldn't stop admiring the ring, as we returned to his house moments later. It surprised me a bit to realize how much I adored it already; fancy jewelry had never been my thing. But in the end, I'd suppose it wasn't the ring I was so fond of – it was what it represented. The same went for the necklace Carlisle had given me. It had been a wordless, secret love confession, but neither of us had been completely aware of it at the time.

Carlisle was greatly amused, when the waitress in me took over as we stopped in the kitchen, and he came to help me as I began to clean up the table and rinse the dishes.

"Are you hungry?" I asked him. "Would you like to have something? You barely touched your dinner earlier."

He smiled. "I was nervous," he admitted, drying his hands with a towel and tossing it on the counter. He stepped closer to me, taking my waist and pulling me against him. "And yes. Maybe I am a bit hungry."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "For...food?"

He leaned in closer, nuzzling the tip of my nose with his. "No, my sweet, innocent Bella. Not for food."

I smiled as he pressed his lips to my jaw, wrapping his arms around me. "Oh, I see," I murmured, feigning realization. "You only have one thing on your mind, don't you? Are you incapable of thinking about anything else?"

"Blame yourself," he murmured, trailing slow, hot kisses along my neck. "It's not my fault my fiancée is so sinfully attractive. I mean, what am I supposed to do about it? Just stand and stare?"

I chuckled, but it turned into a moan as he dragged his teeth along my neck. "Maybe you're right," I managed to say. "Standing still and doing nothing would be such a waste."

His response was to sweep me up into his arms – it happened so quickly and unexpectedly I cried out in surprise. He only chuckled, adjusting me in his arms before carrying me out of the kitchen. I wrapped my arm behind his neck, and a moment later, we were at the door of his bedroom.

And that was when he stopped and looked down at me, locking his gaze with mine. There was something meaningful about that look; something serious.

I smiled, understanding where his mind was. "Isn't it a bit too early to think about things such as carrying me over the threshold?"

He chuckled. "Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but I can't help it." He pressed his lips briefly to mine before stepping into his bedroom, and his mouth found my neck once more as he placed me on the bed, poising himself above me. "I can't help it," he murmured again. "I just...I want you to be mine, Bella. I want to share everything with you. And speaking of thresholds...move in with me?" His lips left the skin on my neck, and he pulled back to gaze at me, cupping my face with his hand. "Come live here with me."

I quirked my eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

He nodded. "I love having you here," he said quietly. "But I don't want to rush you, of course. I mean," he licked his lips nervously, "it doesn't have to happen right away. And you can still keep your apartment, if you want. That way, you'll have a place to go if you grow tired of me." A small smile quirked his lips, and I chuckled. "You don't have to answer right away. Think about it as long as you need."

I laughed softly. "Carlisle, tonight, you asked me to marry you, and I said yes. Do you honestly think I'm going to say _no,_ when you ask me to move in? If I did, that'd make me a very complicated, erratic person, wouldn't it?" I smiled. There was something like relief in his eyes. "I'd love to live here someday, of course. We're spending all our time together, anyway, and frankly, I think most of my clothes are already here instead of my own apartment." That made him chuckle, and the gentle look in his eyes did funny things to my insides.

"But?" he asked carefully, knowing there was something more I wanted to say.

"I wasn't going to say 'but.' I was going to say 'however.'"

"It's the same thing."

I chuckled. "Okay. Maybe it is. However," I said, and suddenly, I was having trouble putting my thoughts into words. "Everything...everything has changed so much lately. I've learned so many things about you during these past couple of weeks." I twined my fingers into his soft, golden hair; the touch made him shiver.

"I never expected us to get this far. I _hoped_ , of course, but I never believed my hopes and desires were realistic. As soon as I met you, I knew I liked you way too much. I prepared myself for the possibility of having to give you up someday. And when I told Rosalie about you and me, that we were keeping things casual, she warned me I wasn't good at casual.

"She was right. I was in love with you from the start, but I didn't want to admit it. And now...now that I have, now that I know you love me, too...and now that I know about the things that have been holding you back for several long years..."

Carlisle nodded slowly, suddenly understanding what I was trying to say. "Are you worried that…because I've been holding back and keeping my distance from people for so long…because I've been used to living my life a certain way, I'll later come to regret that I moved so fast with you?"

I played with the hair on his neck. "I don't question or doubt your feelings for me. It's not that," I assured him. "I just don't want you to feel like we have to hurry. I don't want you to feel like...like you owe me something. Like you have to prove your devotion to me."

He took my other hand in his own and brought it to his lips. "I understand what you're saying. I know I've been slamming on the brakes for a long time, and now that I'm no longer doing that, it must seem very confusing to you. And I know that, especially at the beginning, I seemed to have had one foot out the door, so to speak. Maybe I did. That's how I've...survived...these past years.

"So, when I met you, I kept telling myself nothing was different, that you were just another person who happened to come into my life, just another person who'd have to leave eventually. But very soon, I realized I didn't want you to leave. I know I kept repeating that I wasn't cut out for anything long-term. I suppose it was an attempt to keep you at arm's length, an attempt to convince myself this is how things should to be. But the thought of hurting you...and the thought of leaving you someday..." He shook his head, frowning. "I eventually realized...I can't do that. Leave you."

I stroked my fingers against his scalp, waiting in silence as he gathered his thoughts. He stared at the bedspread for a moment before meeting my eyes.

"I didn't ask you to marry me, or move in with me, because I feel like I have to...prove something to you, or to myself. And I didn't ask those things, because I feel like I might owe it to you after all those comments I made about me not being able to make a commitment. I'm not trying to make up for anything here.

"The reason why I asked you those things...I'm just suddenly so _sure_. I feel so...so certain. About you. About _us_. I haven't felt like this for a long time, Bella. Like there'll be peace, even for me. And if I've learned anything about life, it's that it's too short for waiting. Anything could happen any moment, after all – I know that all too well. That's why I feel like I could never regret something like moving too fast with you. The only thing I might end up regretting is if I wasted time by waiting."

I smiled. "You know, I think we feel the same way about that. I hate wasting time, too. So, let's not. Let's make a deal. No more wasting time."

He returned my smile. "Alright. Deal."

"Deal," I nodded and grinned, tugging at his hair gently.

He caught my lips in a slow, passionate kiss and ran a hand down my body, hooking his elbow under my knee. He pulled it up almost demandingly, hitching it around his other hip.

I moaned against his mouth as my body became flush with his. Sweet, tormenting heat began to pool in my belly, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him even closer. It made him groan quietly, and after pressing one more searing kiss on my lips, he withdrew and set to work on my clothes.

"You know," I managed to pant out as he sat back on his calves, pulling me into a sitting position, so he could pull my sweater up and over my head, "I hope you've thought this through. If I'm really going to move in someday, it means I'll have your library at my disposal around the clock."

"Yes?" he asked. There was impatience in his movements as he discarded my sweater. His clever fingers began to undo the clasp of my bra. "What's your point?"

"My point is…" A quiet moan left my lips as he pulled the bra from my chest, "My point is...are you sure about the whole thing? Because it'd mean I no longer have to borrow your books. It'd mean I might hole myself up in the library for hours, entertaining myself by reading and doing nothing else. I might not come out, not even at night."

"Oh, I see it now. You're with me because I have a good library. Isn't that right?"

And then his mouth was on my bare breast, and my breath hitched as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. My skin rose with goosebumps; for some reason, the simple caress of his lips and tongue felt more heavenly than ever before. It was as if there was some new sensitivity and tenderness to my skin.

"Maybe." The word came out as a breathless sigh. "What would you say to that? That I only like you because of your impressive...book collection?"

He circled my nipple with his tongue, before biting it gently, and then he gave my other breast the same, tender attention. By the time he was done, I was gasping for breath.

"I'd ask," he began, pushing me down against the bed and hovering over me, "whether any of my books can do this." He deftly undid the button and zipper of my jeans, pulling them down and off almost roughly. As he stroked me over my underwear, I whimpered and pushed myself against him, but as soon as I did, his touch withdrew.

"How is it, Bella?" he asked me, his voice low and demanding. Hearing the sound of my name in that tone...it made my head spin. "Answer the question."

I tried to get enough oxygen into my lungs to speak. Tried to get enough oxygen into my brain to form _thoughts_. "Uh...what was the question?"

He chuckled. "I wanted to know if my books can give you the same pleasure as I can give you. How is it?"

"Um...no?"

Apparently, the word came out as a question. And apparently, he didn't like that. A low growl rumbled from his chest, and he sat back again to tug my panties off. It was like he couldn't get rid of my clothes fast enough. I kind of knew the feeling; as he crawled over me again, I had to remind myself there was something I needed to do, that he was still fully dressed, and that was a big no-no for me. As his lips found mine again, my fingers began to fumble for the buttons of his shirt, but undressing him proved to be hard. My focus scattered as he gently kneed my legs apart and reached down, stroking the tender, swollen skin he'd just exposed.

The touch was light, meant to tease, and it was my turn to growl in frustration. That only seemed to amuse him. He pulled away from my lips with a low chuckle, looking at me intensely and suddenly pressing a finger inside me. My mind blanked again, and my eyes slipped closed as his thumb found the bundle of nerves above my entrance. My back began to arch off the bed, but Carlisle held me still, pinning me down with his body.

His skillful fingers, his tormenting touch, his body pressing against my own...the whole man should have been made illegal. He had me on the edge faster than ever before. The wonderful knot in my stomach wound tighter and tighter, and I was quickly hurtling towards climax, and just as I was about to topple over the edge, he pulled away. I groaned quietly, releasing my lip from between my teeth, only now realizing how hard I was biting into it.

"Well?" Carlisle asked again, his voice soft.

"Screw the library," I managed to pant out. "I like you more."

He chuckled contentedly, grinning down at me. I gave him a moment and let him bask in his smugness a few seconds, but I grew impatient very soon. I gave his shoulders a nudge, and as he drew away from my body and sat back, I resumed my earlier task of undressing him. His shirt resisted a bit, and I actually tore a button off in my haste. I idly thought to myself that I could have made this whole thing more elegant and seductive, but all my brain could comprehend at that moment was that he had too many clothes on, and this had to change as soon as possible. Elegance was overrated, anyway.

When he was finally blissfully naked, I slowed down. Pressing a hand against his chest, I pushed him down to the bed and crawled over him. My mouth sought his, touching long enough to catch the quiet moan leaving his lips, and then I kissed my way down his body. I paid extra attention to the tense muscles of his stomach, avoiding the area that ached for my touch the most, knowing it would drive him crazy. His whole body was thrumming with tension – I could literally feel it.

I shifted, maneuvering myself so I was next to him. I sat down on my calves, running a hand over his other hipbone, grinning as I saw that his eyes were closed, and his hands were gripping the bed covers. As I traced the tips of my fingers along his thigh, he shivered, and his hips jerked.

"Bella," he groaned, his voice breathless. "Bella...please..."

I was tempted to torture him for a moment more, but I decided to show him mercy; maybe next time, I would be patient enough to tease him a while longer. And besides, I'd told him I didn't like wasting time, and why would I contradict myself?

I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on his hipbone, feeling him tremble again, and then I shifted, trailing a hand up his thigh, before gently stroking his weeping arousal. As soon as my hand surrounded him, he breathed out, long and loud, as if he'd been holding in his breath all this time. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth was cracked open, and as I leaned over him, giving the tip of his hardness a soft lick, he grunted, and his hips gave a small, uncontrollable buck.

His hand was suddenly in my hair, and I could tell he was struggling not to make a fist and hurt me. I hummed softly as I took him into my mouth, my hands taking care of what my lips and tongue couldn't reach. I took my time, alternating between soft licks and hard strokes, and it wasn't long before I could feel a subtle change in the rigid tension of his body.

"My God, Bella...that feels incredible...I can't–" A low grunt cut off his sentence, and a visible shudder went through him. His iron control suddenly snapped, and his fingers fisted in my hair, not hard enough to cause pain, but hard enough to make me understand he was close. "Bella... Bella, stop. Bella, stop, stop, stop...Bella, _stop!"_

It seemed to take every ounce of his control to untangle his fingers from my hair, and he grabbed my arm instead, gently but firmly pulling me away from him. I released him reluctantly, giving him a sly smile as he drew me against his chest and wrapped his arms around me. Not that he saw my expression; his eyes were squeezed closed, and he was taking slow breaths through his mouth, an expression of intense focus on his face.

Biting my lip to keep from chuckling, I reached down and wrapped my hand around his hardness, giving it a gentle stroke. It throbbed and pulsed in my hand, and Carlisle growled, actually _growled_. Quickly, he grabbed my misbehaving hand and held it to his chest, and this time, he didn't let go. He spent several endless moments just breathing, his inhales and exhales forcibly slow.

After a while, his eyes fluttered open, and he gave me a scolding glance, letting go of my hand.

I batted my eyelashes at him in feigned innocence and confusion. "What's the matter? Didn't you like what I was doing?"

He let out a breathless chuckle. "I liked it too much – and I think you know that very well."

"Oh. What's the problem, then?" I asked, still feigning confusion. I reached down again, but just as my hand was about to reach its destination, he caught my wrist.

"The problem is, sweetheart," Carlisle answered in a low tone, his blue eyes dark, "it seems like you want me to disgrace myself by losing control like a teenage boy. Is that what you want?"

"What if it is?" I bit my lip and peeked at him through my eyelashes. That made him groan quietly. "What if...I want to see you lose control?"

It seemed impossible, but his eyes darkened even more. He leaned his face closer to mine, touching the tip of my nose with his. "Is that what you really want, sweetheart?"

His dangerously soft tone made me shiver. Before I could utter a word, he kissed me, hard and long, and when he pulled away from my mouth, he gave me no time to recover. He flipped me over onto my stomach in one deft move and began to place hot kisses along my spine. I shivered, but he gave me no time to enjoy the touch of his lips. Soon, his mouth left my skin, and I tried to twist around to see his face, but again, he didn't give me the chance; I was too slow, and he was one step ahead of me.

His hands grasped my hips, and then he pulled me back against him. I moaned as I felt his arousal pressing against the back of my thigh, and I shifted, trying to get him to move, to do _something_ , to give me the connection I craved. He wrapped his arm around me and slipped his hand between my thighs, and a desperate moan left my lips as he slipped a finger between my folds and began to stroke my sensitive flesh. My hips bucked involuntarily. I almost began to cry when I felt him shift; I expected him to keep teasing me. But then, he nudged my legs apart, his free hand twining into my hair, and in one hard thrust, he buried himself inside me from behind.

I cried out, both in pleasure and surprise. Carlisle was always so gentle, so tender, and this new, bold side of him caused an excited thrill to run through me. He untangled his hand from my hair and took hold of my waist instead, his other hand stroking the tender nub at the apex of my thighs. The primal position alone made my head reel with pleasure, but then...then he began to move.

Each stroke of his hips was slow but hard, steady, and deliberate. I didn't even realize I was biting into a pillow, until my jaw began to hurt. Incoherent moans and cries were pouring from my lips, and my hands searched for purchase, grasping desperately at the bedcovers, before reaching up and grabbing the headboard.

"Carlisle...oh, my God..." Forming words, at least sensible ones, was practically impossible. Every push of his hips, every touch of his fingers, sent white-hot pleasure through me. My thighs were trembling, and I squeezed the headboard so hard, there might have been pain, but if there was, I didn't notice. I was only aware of the blinding flashes of bliss coursing through me, as he slammed into me from behind, hard and fast, only aware of the sound of his heavy breathing and the soft grunts rising up from his throat.

"Do you like this, Bella?" he asked breathily. "Do you like to be taken this way? Or do you want me to stop?"

"No, please, don't stop...don't ever stop..."

It was too good, too much, and it didn't take long until the tight coil in my stomach sprung free. I tumbled over the edge, waves of release washing over me like an inrushing tide, untamed, uncontrollable, unstoppable. My peak brought on his own; his fingers were suddenly digging into my skin, his breathing unsteady, and I felt him pulse and throb inside me. Then, he stilled and let out an unintelligible moan that sounded something like my name.

I was half-moaning, half-sobbing, as we fell on the bed. I didn't realize there were tears running down my cheeks, until Carlisle suddenly untangled his body from mine and turned me onto my back. His eyes were alarmed.

I smiled at him through my tears and gave a soft chuckle. "I'm fine," I told him breathlessly. "My whole body is on overdrive, that's all – thanks to you. You've never seen anyone crying tears of ecstasy before?"

He gave a confused laugh, but he still looked worried. He reached out to smooth a lock of hair back from my face. "I didn't hurt you?"

"Of course not," I assured.

He leaned down to kiss the tears away. "Everything's alright?"

"Yes, Carlisle. Everything's alright." I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. A moment before his lips claimed mine, I whispered, "Everything's perfect. Everything's fine. Nothing is going to change that. Not ever."

And in that moment, I had every reason to believe in those words.


	26. Something Different

_**Sometimes, everything hits you all at once.**_  
 _ **You lose a relationship, change jobs, old friends go, and new friends come.**_

 _ **It's up one day and down the next.**_  
 _ **You have it all together on Monday, and by Thursday, you don't have a clue.**_

 _ **Life is one big wave, and all we can do is flow,**_ _ **adapt and transform with it all.**_

\- Sylvester McNutt -

* * *

 **Something Different**

The next day, I told Rosalie and my mom about Carlisle's proposal. Rosalie was very surprised at first, but once she got over that, she was ecstatic. If she had been harboring any secret resentment towards Carlisle for these past couple of weeks, it disappeared now completely. I'd suppose she was finally willing to believe he was taking me more than seriously, and he wasn't going to hurt me. I tried to contain her eagerness when she began to dance around my apartment and talked about having a double wedding with her and Emmett.

"Slow down, please," I told her with a chuckle. "Carlisle and I are in no hurry to get married yet. And besides, you wouldn't want to share your big day with another bride, would you?"

"Well, if you're the other bride, I have absolutely no problem with it."

Her words flattered me – Rosalie had been dreaming about her wedding day since she was five, after all. The fact that she even suggested this told me how genuinely happy she was for me.

I smiled. "But still, in the name of fairness, since you and Emmett got engaged before me and Carlisle, I think you should be the ones to tie the knot first. You two can show us the way, if you will, and we can observe and learn from your mistakes to avoid the biggest pitfalls of marriage."

She chuckled. "Okay. Except that...well, maybe Carlisle knows something about those things already, since he's been married before."

I nodded and cocked my head to the side. "You're right. You know, come to think of it, maybe he doesn't even want to have a wedding at all. Who knows? Maybe he wants us to drive to Vegas or something."

Rosalie gave me a searching look. "How would you feel about that?"

I shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it. And it's not like we've discussed any of this – what I said was just a random conjecture. We agreed to take it a day at a time, and I think that's good. What matters to me the most is that I can be with him."

She smiled. "Alright. As long as you're happy, I'm happy." Suddenly, she chuckled softly.

"What?" I asked, confused.

She shook her head, hesitating. "Well, did it freak you out at all? When he proposed?"

I gave a soft laugh. "Well, of course, I was _shocked_. I mean, we just met in August. We've known each other a ridiculously short time. Of course it surprised me, especially considering the way this thing of ours started. But then again, he once told me he's a traditional, old-fashioned man. But yesterday, he said he feels so...sure about this. About us. So…yeah. I guess there are more absurd things than the thought of sharing my life with him."

Rosalie nodded. "Well, I'm happy things turned out well. And I'm glad Carlisle's brother opened his mouth at the right moment and told you about Carlisle's past."

"I owe Edward one for that."

"Sometimes, shameless meddlers like him make the world better. Maybe you should send him a thank-you card."

I laughed. "You know, maybe I should. I sometimes wonder how different things would be if I hadn't happened to run into him at the café that day." I paused, smiling wryly. "I wonder if I could convince him to meddle some more. Or maybe I should hire him to defend me – he's a lawyer, after all."

She raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean?"

I blew out a sigh. "I kind of have to tell Charlie now. About Carlisle. And to be honest, I'm kind of... _scared_."

Rosalie laughed. "I'm sure it'll be a shock for him to learn that his little girl is engaged."

"To a man who's only a few years younger than he is," I added in a dry tone.

"Right. But he'll get over it."

I wanted to believe her. But still, calling Charlie was something I decided to put off for a while longer, and that night, I called Renée instead. She reacted to my news just like I'd expected; she was just as excited and delighted as Rosalie was. I realized when she'd visited me on my birthday, she must have seen how much I liked Carlisle, and how much the necklace he had given me had affected me.

But she also seemed relieved when I told her we were in no hurry to get married – maybe she was thinking about the decisions she'd made when she'd been my age. Maybe she was thinking about her failed marriage with Charlie. They, too, had gotten married very soon after they'd met. She'd been younger than me, though, and more impulsive. But still, I supposed she didn't want me to go through the same heartache she once had. But she didn't say anything about it – not directly, anyway.

" _You're so much more mature than I was when I was your age_ ," she told me. _"I know you're not making my mistakes. And when I saw you two months ago, I noticed how you looked at him – and how he looked at you."_

I chuckled, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder while I poured hot water into a mug. "Am I that easy to read?"

" _I know you, Bella. And you know yourself better than many fifty_ **-** _year-olds know themselves. I'm sure you know what's best for you."_ She paused, staying silent at the other end of the line for a brief moment; something made her hesitate. _"But you should keep in mind, given your obvious age difference, that Carlisle might have...well, some expectations. He's obviously ready to settle down, and he might be in a hurry to..._ " she trailed off, hesitating.

"Look, I know what you're trying to say. You think he probably doesn't want to waste any time and is eager to start a family and so on. But the thing is..." I blew out a breath, wishing she was here in front of me, instead of hundreds of miles away. Conversations like this shouldn't take place over the phone; that was why I had earlier decided that I wouldn't tell her about this until I'd see her, but since she'd brought this up now... "Well, I guess there's no subtle way to say this. Carlisle...he doesn't want to have children."

" _Oh. Why not? And are you okay with that?_ "

"I am. We've discussed this more than once. I understand where he's coming from. Sort of." I paused. "I was supposed to wait until I see you to tell you about this, but...well, Carlisle has been married before. He had a daughter who died in an accident, and he never really got over what happened."

" _Oh, my God. That's terrible._ "

"It is. He doesn't talk about it very much, which is understandable. I found out about it myself only a couple of weeks ago."

Renée was silent for a moment. " _You're okay with it, though? I mean, I can only imagine what he's been through, but the truth is, his decision has an effect on your life as well._ "

"Well, I've never been very passionate about having a big family or anything," I mused. "Children are adorable, of course, and I'm sure parenthood is a very fulfilling experience. But…if I have to choose between Carlisle and a future I may not even want, then of course I choose him. I love him. So much that it scares me." I gave a soft laugh, and suddenly, I found myself blinking back tears. It surprised me, but maybe it shouldn't have; for some reason, I'd been very emotional lately. Maybe it was because of all those things that had happened during the past weeks. So many things in my life had changed.

" _Oh, Bella,_ " she chuckled, " _I know it's scary, but it's worth it. I promise you._ "

"I know. But if this is scary, it's nothing compared to how scary it'll be when I have to tell Charlie about Carlisle and me. Actually, I'm going to call him right after you."

" _Oh, don't bother. He's not home. He's on vacation, can you believe it?_ "

"Charlie? Charlie left for a _vacation?_ _Willingly?"_ I asked, incredulous. Charlie was an incurable workaholic. "Did someone blackmail him or something?"

Renée chuckled. " _Maybe. I'm thinking a woman might have something to do with it._ "

"What? Charlie's _dating_ someone?"

" _Well, he hasn't said much about it, but a few months ago, he mentioned he was going fishing with someone. When I asked who, he – begrudgingly – told me about this woman who keeps a sporting goods store in Forks. Apparently, she's a widow – the husband died a few years back. She has a son who's about your age._ "

"Oh. Okay. Wow. So, Charlie is on vacation with this woman?"

" _That's right. Her name's Karen, if memory serves. Karen Newton. So, when he gets back, and when you tell him about Carlisle and you, if he overreacts, you can tell him you're not the only one who's been keeping secrets. And then, you can tease him mercilessly about his vacation with this mystery woman. He'll get so embarrassed and self-conscious that he'll forgot you're engaged to a forty-five-year-old man._ "

"Hmm. I like the sound of that. That's a very good plan."

Renée laughed. " _That's what mothers are for – we're good planners._ " She paused, her voice more serious when she spoke again. " _I wouldn't worry about Charlie, Bella. Even if he gets upset, so what? He'll get over it. He has to accept your decisions, because they're_ your _decisions and nobody else's."_

Her words brought me comfort and gave me a sense of certainty, but I couldn't deny the fact that I was a little relieved to hear Charlie wasn't home, so I got the chance to delay my news. It wasn't that I was ashamed of my relationship with Carlisle – of course not. In fact, meeting him was pretty much the best thing that had ever happened to me. I reveled in that knowledge. But I wasn't naive – I knew it would take some time for Charlie to see things how I saw them.

In the end, I decided to listen to my mother's advice and not worry about it too much. This matter was out of my hands, after all.

Maybe the universe picked up on my sudden, positive energy. Maybe it decided I was being entirely too calm about things, and my life needed some complications. Or maybe the universe was trying to tell me it wasn't Charlie I should have been worrying about. That there were more pressing matters to consider.

Or maybe things had been going too well lately, as simple as that, and someone out there had decided it needed to change.

One early morning, I woke up to a strange feeling. I felt chilly and worn out, and after tossing and turning for a few minutes, I got up, trying not to wake Carlisle. I pulled on a warm sweater and my pajama shorts, quietly making my way to the kitchen. I wondered idly if I was coming down with something, after all. I'd been feeling something like this a few days ago, but it had passed. Or that was what I'd thought. Perhaps my immune system was just acting up or something.

I decided to make myself some tea with lemon and honey; since I had an early shift at the café, I hoped I'd feel better by the time I had to leave. While I nursed my tea, I turned on the coffee maker as well. Some caffeine would do me some good – I was exhausted. I rubbed my temples, trying to clear my foggy head. I suddenly began to consider if I could be coming down with a migraine again. But something told me that wasn't the reason behind my strange weariness. There was something different, something strange about these symptoms.

I finished my tea and started to tidy up the kitchen – I was supposed to spend the next couple of nights at Carlisle's house, and I didn't want to leave behind a messy apartment. While waiting for the coffee to drip, I wiped the counter and rinsed my mug. I was just about to go to the living room to see if there was anything to be done there, when a sudden wave of nausea swept over me.

I leaned against the counter, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. It didn't help; the strong smell of coffee was suddenly assaulting my senses, and I swallowed thickly. Clamping a hand over my mouth, I rushed out of the kitchen, reaching the bathroom just in time. I fell on my knees in front of the toilet, trying to hold my hair out of the way, as I lost the tea I had consumed just a few minutes earlier. My stomach kept convulsing, but there was nothing left to retch but bile.

As a series of painful dry heaves racked my body, warm hands touched my shoulders, before gathering my hair and holding it out of the way.

When the heaves eventually ceased, I let myself sink toward the floor. I pressed my cheek against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, realizing that sweat was running down my face. I felt Carlisle touching my forehead and cheeks, and when he asked me to open my eyes, all I wanted to do was cry.

"Go away," I mumbled, trying to take even breaths. I hated how feeble I sounded. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"Don't be silly, Bella," he said. I cracked my eyes open; he was leaning over me, his hair slightly messy from sleep. He looked completely awake, though; there was worry and alarm in his eyes. He was wearing pants – it seemed he'd been in a hurry, when he'd pulled them on. The buckle of his belt was still undone. "How long have you been feeling ill? You should've woken me."

"I had no reason to. I mean, I felt a little off when I woke up, but I wasn't feeling this sick."

"It started all of a sudden?"

I nodded, but since that made me feel dizzy, I stopped. My eyes slipped closed. Carlisle touched my forehead again. "Does your head hurt?"

"No. I don't think this is a migraine. It's something else. I must've caught a stomach flu or something – maybe you shouldn't touch me. I don't want you to get whatever this is."

Again, he wouldn't listen to me. He asked me if I still felt sick, and when I shook my head, he flushed the toilet and supported me as I slowly stood up. After I'd rinsed my mouth, he helped me to bed, and I glowered at him as he kept fussing over me, taking my temperature and asking me a series of questions.

"It's just a stomach bug," I insisted as he checked the thermometer, frowning.

"Maybe," he granted, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Well, you're running a slight temperature. Does your stomach hurt? Do you have cramps? Any other symptoms?"

"No, Dr. Cullen," I answered, rolling my eyes. "I'm just really exhausted, that's all. I'll have to call work and tell them I can't come in today. I don't want to puke in someone's coffee." I shouldn't have thought about coffee – a wave of queasiness hit me instantly. I closed my eyes and somehow managed to fight it down.

"You should stay home a couple of days," Carlisle agreed, nodding. He glanced at the clock and got up, and a moment later, he was back again, holding his cell phone; it looked like he was going through his list of contacts.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, struggling to keep my eyes open. He sat down on the edge of the bed again.

"Just making a quick phone call. I'm canceling my classes."

I was instantly alert. " _What_? No, you're not! Not because of me. Don't be ridiculous, Carlisle. It's just a stomach flu. It's no big deal. Seriously, spending a couple of hours alone won't kill me."

I was instantly sorry after I'd said that. A shadow crossed his expression, and he stared down at the cell phone in his hand, swallowing thickly. He was silent for a long moment. "I'm just going through an endless list of possibilities in my head," he said quietly. "There are so many illnesses that can seem like an innocent stomach bug, and the thought of leaving you alone..." He sighed, shaking his head. "It could be an intestinal obstruction, diverticulitis, appendicitis…it could be any number of things, and some of those conditions can be very dangerous if left untreated. I'd like to stay and monitor you for a while."

"I'd have other symptoms if this was something serious," I told him, trying to calm him down.

"Not necessarily."

"Look..." I reached out for him, but then, I remembered I shouldn't touch him, and I drew my hand away. Carlisle ignored it; he grasped my hand and nearly clung to it. "It's more than likely this is just a stomach bug and nothing else. And even if it isn't, I have a phone. I can call you if I start to feel worse during the day." I paused, squeezing his hand. "You have to stop this, Carlisle. Stop being afraid of every little thing. This isn't the first time I've been sick, and it won't be the last. You can't blow things out of proportion every time something like this happens. You have to stop living in the worst-case scenarios. You can't keep tormenting yourself with all those bad things that _might_ happen."

He sighed quietly. I held his gaze and gave him a wan smile.

"Now," I continued. "Since you keep touching me, regardless of my warnings, I'll bet in a few hours, you're going to start feeling strange, too. And when you're hugging the toilet tonight, you'll regret the fact that you didn't listen to me."

He gave a soft, sad chuckle and shook his head. "You must think I'm silly, overreacting like this."

I smiled. "You're still a doctor at heart," I murmured. "And it's not just that. You care about the people around you. That's what you were meant to do. I suppose those who have a broken heart do it best."

He raised my knuckles to his lips and kissed my hand; it seemed like he didn't know what to say. Maybe my words had caught him off guard. Wordlessly, he got up and pulled the bedcovers over me, and then he left the room. He returned a moment later, placing a glass of water and a packet of crackers on the bedside table.

"Only clear liquids today," he told me with a soft smile. "Apologies to the coffee addict in you."

"Apology accepted."

He chuckled. After seeing me drink a few sips of water, he seemed satisfied. He took a clean towel from the dresser and disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower.

I must have dozed off at some point; I woke up to the feeling of soft lips pressing against my temple. When I opened my eyes, I saw Carlisle that was fully dressed. He had his coat on – I was suddenly pretty sure he had been about to leave without waking me, but he had changed his mind and turned around at the door, deciding to check up on me one more time.

He placed my cell phone on the bed next to me, his blue eyes uncertain.

"I feel better," I said, just as he opened his mouth to ask. "Just tired."

He nodded. "Call me if you need anything," he said softly.

I held up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

He chuckled, and once again ignoring my resistance, he leaned closer to place a kiss on my cheek. I closed my eyes, and the weight disappeared from the bed as he got up. A moment later, I heard the door of my apartment open and close quietly.

I was almost instantly asleep. For the next few hours, I dreamed about a little girl with golden, untamed hair and cornflower blue eyes.

* * *

I stayed in bed for the rest of the morning, dozing off every now and then. At some point, I called the café, and when the manager heard I might have a stomach flu, she gladly gave me the rest of the week off, promising she'd get someone to cover for me.

I nibbled some of the crackers Carlisle had left on the bedside table, and when it seemed they'd stay down, I drained the water glass as well. I expected to feel queasy, but to be honest, I began to feel pretty much normal again. It confused me – I'd never gotten off this easy with a stomach flu before.

Finding it hard to stay in bed all day, I eventually got up and took a long shower. After getting dressed and wrapping my hair in a towel, I grabbed a book and a blanket and made my way to the living room. Just as I was about to lie down, there was a soft knock on the door. Frowning, I got up.

I heard keys in the lock. Only two people aside from me had keys to my apartment. Carlisle was one – I'd given him a key a few weeks ago, after we'd gotten back together - and the other person was...

"Rosalie." She stepped inside just as I emerged from the living room.

She gave me a smile, closing the door behind her. She was holding a takeout soup container in her hand. "Hey, you're up! How are you feeling?"

"Fine. A lot better," I answered, frowning. "Why aren't you at the salon?"

"It's been a quiet day. I only had two customers for the afternoon, but my mom promised to cover for me. I wanted to come by and see how you were doing – I brought you soup."

She offered me the container, and I took it.

"Thanks. But how did you know I was ill?"

"Actually, Carlisle called me and asked me if I had time to check up on you. He was going to do it himself on his lunch break, but something came up."

I closed my eyes, sighing. "He must've taken your number from my phone before he left. Sneaky."

"Actually, he already had my number. I called him in September, when we were planning that surprise birthday party for you."

"Oh, right. Of course."

Rosalie gave me a small smile. "He seemed really worried about you."

"He's overreacting, that's all. I feel normal again – I should probably text him and tell him that. He almost stayed home with me today – it took some effort to convince him to go to work.'"

When Rosalie nodded toward the soup container in my hand, I made my way to the kitchen. She followed me.

"Thanks for coming over," I told her, giving her a smile. "You didn't have to, though. Like I said, I feel pretty much normal. Kind of famished, actually. Have you eaten?"

She nodded. "Yeah, the soup is all yours. It shouldn't be too spicy or anything, so it won't upset you stomach."

I grabbed a spoon for myself and sat down at the table, and Rosalie took a seat across from me.

"Aren't you afraid I'm going to pass this bug on to you?" I asked as I began to eat my soup.

"Nah. I have a strong immune system." She was watching me closely. "You look a bit worn out. Do you have a fever?"

I shook my head. "I don't feel like I do – not anymore, at least. I was running a temperature this morning, just like a few days ago."

"What do you mean? Have you been feeling ill for a long time?"

I shrugged. "I was feeling a little off a while ago. I was more tired than normal, nauseous on and off, and I was feeling chilly all the time. Since it lasted several days, I figured I was coming down with something. But then, it passed. Or that's what I thought. This morning when I woke up, I began to feel strange again. I was making coffee, and the smell just turned my stomach. It's been a few years since I've felt that sick."

Rosalie frowned, staying silent for a moment. A strange look crossed her face. "Huh."

"What?" I asked, wondering why she looked like that.

She hesitated. "Was it the smell of coffee that made you sick?"

"Uh...maybe? I'm not sure. It made me feel worse, that's for sure." I stared at her, confused about her question. "Why do you ask?"

Instead of answering, she asked another question. "What kind of other symptoms have you had? When you first began to feel strange, I mean."

I shook my head, a little baffled. "Uh...I was feeling cold and tired a few days ago, like I said. I didn't really pay much attention to it. I'd forgotten about the whole thing, but then, this morning..." I trailed off, not knowing what she'd expected me to say. Her next question confused me even more.

"Have you been feeling hungrier than usual?"

I stared at her. "I don't know. Maybe. But I'm always hungry – except in the mornings. You know that."

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, hesitating. "Bella...are you…late?"

"Late?" I asked, blinking. "As in... _late_ , late?"

She nodded wordlessly.

I opened my mouth to answer, hesitating. I stared at her, suddenly not knowing what to say. What to _think_.

"I don't know," I said again, and unfortunately, I was being honest. "I mean, my periods are very irregular now. It started when I had that copper coil fitted."

"How long ago was that?"

"Three years."

She blew out a slow breath. "Bella, I want you to think very carefully. These symptoms you've had...the chills, the weariness, the nausea...are you sure you haven't noticed anything else? Have you been more forgetful or short-tempered, for instance? Or more emotional?"

Almost immediately, I remembered the sudden onslaught of tears a couple of days ago, when Carlisle and I had been in bed together. I also remembered that day at the cemetery. I remembered how I'd been swallowing back tears when I'd seen Carlisle carrying Edward's daughter in his arms. But that had been just because the day had been emotional in itself. There was nothing more to it than that. Right?

 _Right?_

"Rosalie," I began, but I stopped and shook my head, refusing to even consider it.

"Bella," she responded, holding my gaze, "Are you sure you're not–"

I shook my head again, before she even managed to finish. "No," I said slowly. "I am not pregnant. That's not...that can't...that's just...I mean – that's _impossible_. I have a copper coil, like said."

She raised her eyebrows. "It's not one hundred percent effective. No birth control method is. You know that."

"But...but..." I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water.

Rosalie let out a quiet sigh, giving me a careful smile. "You remember my cousin? The one who had a baby two years ago?"

"Vera?" I asked.

She nodded. "That's right. Well, she had a copper coil, too. But..." she trailed off meaningfully, falling silent.

My lips felt numb. "You're kidding."

"I'm not. Her son, Henry, turned two last month. The doctor told Vera these things happen – not often, but they do happen. IUDs can fail. Apparently, it's uncommon, but..."

I pushed the soup container away, suddenly nauseous once again, but this was a different kind of nausea. Or maybe it wasn't nausea at all – it was something like confusion. Something like fear. Something like...absolute horror.

"But Rosalie, I can't be pregnant! Carlisle..." I fell silent, not really knowing what I wanted to say. I shook my head and got up, beginning to pace around the kitchen like a lunatic. "This can't be happening. This is not happening. _This can't happen, Rosalie._ "

She was watching me patiently. "Do you think he'd be upset?"

I gave a hysterical laugh. "Upset? He'll flip out! I've told you how he feels about this! According to Edward _,_ becoming a father again is pretty much the worst thing that could happen to Carlisle. _That's_ how much Alice's memory torments him. Look, he can't relate to these things...normally. I can't even begin to imagine how he'll react if I'm pregnant. _This_ – _can't_ – _happen!"_

"Okay. Alright," Rosalie's tone was appeasing, and she got up from her chair, coming to stand in front of me and putting a stop to my crazy pacing. "Calm down, okay? Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Maybe you're right, and you've simply caught a stomach bug. Don't freak out unless there's something to freak out about. Okay?" She paused, waiting until I was breathing normally again – I hadn't even realized I sounded like I'd just run a marathon. "Just stay calm. I'll go and get you a pregnancy test, okay? I believe it's recommended that you take it in the morning, since the result will be more accurate–" she said, but seeing the shift in my expression, she backpedaled, "But of course, nothing stops you from taking it right away. I'll get you two, just in case. You can take the other test in the morning, if the result is...unclear."

She was about to turn to the door, but I caught her hand, staring at her.

"Rosalie...what if I am?" I asked quietly, my voice devoid of emotion.

She squeezed my fingers. "Then you are. Then we'll deal with it. And we'll hope Carlisle doesn't leave the country when he finds out."

I didn't even crack a smile at her small jest. "And the coil?" I asked, my voice trembling. "What if...I mean, is it harmful to the baby?"

"Well, Henry is a very healthy two-year-old, I assure you. Sometimes, they take it out if they can – that's what they did with Vera. But I've heard they sometimes leave it in place. I suppose it depends."

"But won't it harm the baby if they take it out? Or the fetus? Embryo? Whatever?"

She hesitated. "Well, I remember Vera telling me they'd warned her about there being a chance of miscarriage. But Bella, don't think about those things just yet. Don't get ahead of yourself. I'll get you that test, and then, we'll move on from there. Okay? When's Carlisle coming home?"

I glanced at the clock. "In two hours – if he isn't running late."

She nodded and then led me back to the table, urging me to sit down. Wordlessly, she microwaved my soup and then placed it in front of me again.

"Try to eat something. You'll feel better."

I barely heard her words. I barely heard her silent footfalls as she made her way to the door and left. I barely heard her car leaving the parking lot of my apartment complex, barely heard the ticking of the kitchen clock as the minutes slowly passed.

I felt frozen, immobilized. I couldn't think about what all this could _mean_ , where this might lead. All I could think about was the drowned look in Carlisle's eyes, when I'd heard him speak Alice's name for the first time. All I could think about was the shadow that crossed his expression way too often. All I could think about was Edward's words a few weeks ago.

" _He once swore to me that, he's never going to put himself through that again. He said he'd rather stay alone than take that kind of risk again. He said he doesn't want to – that he can't – become a father ever again... It's the worst thing that can possibly happen to him... Maybe he's also afraid of replacing Alice, in a way, as crazy as it sounds... I think he believes that starting a new life is something he doesn't deserve after his failure..._ "

I closed my eyes, and almost immediately, I remembered the dream I'd had this morning. I remembered the beautiful little girl with golden, unruly hair and cornflower blue eyes.

And then...I was suddenly crying.

I didn't know if they were tears of fear or joy. Maybe both. But when Rosalie came back fifteen minutes later, and when she found me bawling into my untouched soup, she came to me and wrapped me in a tight hug.

The thought of not having her there...it was frightening. She kept me sane as I sat down on the bathroom floor and waited for the required three minutes to pass. When her phone's timer chimed, announcing it was time to find out if my whole world was about to change or not, she met my eyes.

"Do you want me to look?" she asked quietly, nodding toward the bathroom counter where I'd placed the test stick.

I nodded mutely, trying to take a deep breath, but I felt like my lungs refused to cooperate.

Rosalie went to the counter and picked up the test stick. When she turned to look at me again, she didn't have to say anything; the answer was written in her eyes.

I drew my knees to my chest and wept.


	27. Chaos

**_A/N:_** _Thank you for your wonderful reviews, they're very much appreciated! I'd also like to thank **Dollybigmomma** for working on these upcoming last chapters. For these past days, she's been working on the rest of the story as well, correcting typos, grammar and making all kinds of improvements. I'm sure doing beta work for a non-native speaker can get frustrating, so thank you for your endless patience!  
_

 _So. This story is nearing its end, and it makes me very sad. There will be three more chapters after this one, including the epilogue. I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it._

* * *

 ** _"When you protect yourself from pain, be sure you do not protect yourself from love."_**

\- Alan Cohen -

* * *

 **Chaos**

I managed to book a doctor's appointment for next week. I felt like I might be crazy by then, but like Rosalie said, all I could do was just take it easy and try to stay calm. I was glad she hadn't begun to congratulate me or gush with enthusiasm after looking at the test and confirming it was positive. She'd simply sat down on the floor next to me and hugged me, promising me things would sort themselves out somehow.

I wanted to believe her, but if I was being entirely honest, I found it kind of hard.

"What am I going to tell Carlisle?" I asked quietly. An hour had passed, and I was still sitting on the bathroom floor; I felt like I had no strength to move.

Rosalie hesitated. "Maybe you shouldn't say anything just yet," she suggested carefully. "Wait until your doctor's appointment is over. I mean, when it comes to these things, you never know. It could be a blighted ovum, or the pregnancy could be ectopic. Or maybe it was a false positive – I know the chances are rare, but..."

I glanced at her. "Do you think that's what I'm hoping for? That this is just a false alarm?"

She considered me carefully. " _Is_ that what you're hoping for? That it'll turn out you have nothing to tell Carlisle, after all?"

I shook my head, confused. "I don't know. I mean, of course, this is a shock. I wasn't prepared for this. This wasn't supposed to happen, and I don't know how to deal with it. But...now that it _has_ happened...I don't know. I don't _know_ how to feel. This is very confusing and stressing as it is, and then, there's the fact that I have no idea how Carlisle will react. What he'll say. What if he thinks I tricked him into this or something? Some women do that – they stop taking their pills or have the IUD taken out without telling their partners."

"Don't be silly, Bella. He wouldn't think something like that. He knows you'd never do that to him, not after what he's been through. And besides, he's not just a partner. You're engaged, for heaven's sake. You're in this together, and nothing's going to change that." She paused, regarding me carefully. "Have you thought about...well, are you worried he's going to want to...end it?"

Letting out a long sigh, I blinked back tears. "I don't think that's something he'd suggest. And it's not something I'm willing to consider, either." I flicked her a glance. "And it's not like you'd _let_ me do it. You'd probably convince me to give the baby to you, just as long as it'd get the chance to be born." For the first time during the past hour, I actually smiled. There were tears in my eyes, but at least I smiled.

She chuckled. "You're right. I'd be honored to take care of your baby. And Bella?" She sobered, hesitating. "I know right now, everything about this situation seems bad, but...congratulations, anyway. Everything will turn out okay. I'm sure of it. You'll see."

Again, I wanted to believe her. I wondered how I'd get through these next few days, wondered how I'd feel, when it came time for the doctor's appointment. And I wondered how I could keep this from Carlisle – I was a bad liar, and he'd probably realize something was bothering me. But still, I decided to wait until I'd seen a doctor before talking to him about this, despite the fact I was bursting with fear and uncertainty.

After Rosalie left, I wrapped the test stick in a paper towel and put it in the trash, making sure Carlisle wouldn't find it. But before I did that, I spent a few minutes staring at the pink plus sign; I guess I needed to see it with my own eyes.

As I heard keys in the lock, I quickly shut the lid of the trash can. I darted to the bed, lying down and pulling the covers over me, pretending I was sleeping. For some reason, I couldn't face Carlisle just yet. I couldn't look at him, couldn't talk to him and pretend everything was alright. That the world hadn't tilted on its axis while he was gone.

He came to the bedroom immediately after getting inside. His steps were soft and quiet as he crossed to the bed, carefully touching my temple. When I kept my eyes closed and didn't react, he drew his hand away, adjusting the covers before leaning down to press a soft kiss on my cheek.

He left the room, then, once again very quietly, unaware that I was fully awake. A relieved breath escaped me as he closed the bedroom door behind him.

If he had stayed there a moment longer, he would have seen the quiet tears escaping from my closed eyes.

I wrapped my arms around myself, my mind filling with images of a little girl with golden hair and blue eyes.

* * *

When I later thought about it all, I didn't know how I had gotten through the next few days.

A large part of me was frustrated that I'd taken the rest of the week off, and obviously for nothing. I wasn't ill, after all. I was just...pregnant. I still found it hard to even think about the word. I knew turning up at work would raise questions, though, and so I stayed home a few days, trying to remain calm and doing everything I could to keep myself from losing my damn mind.

Carlisle probably noticed I was more quiet than normal, but it was pretty safe to assume he thought it was because I was still unwell. I let him be under the impression I was tired, and I spent several long hours in bed, avoiding conversation with him. I felt bad about it, but I also felt terrible standing in front of him and pretending everything was fine. That everything was normal.

My morning sickness got worse as the days passed, and that was kind of challenging to hide. If I happened to be spending the night at his house, I rose early and made excuses to leave for my apartment, sometimes telling Carlisle I needed to pick something up before heading for work, sometimes saying I was running out of clean clothes. I usually made it home before the nausea started. During the course of those few days, I only had to stop my truck once on the side of the road, so I could puke my guts out.

The smell of coffee still turned my stomach, and when I went back to work, the only thing that helped me survive was peppermint lip balm; the fresh smell of it seemed to ease the nausea. I even went as far as dabbing some of it around my nostrils to distract myself from the assaulting smell. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

I was a nervous wreck by the time my doctor's appointment came around. Rosalie offered to come with me, and I was obviously thankful – for more than one reason. My truck refused to start in the afternoon when we were about to leave my apartment, and since the battery was new, Rosalie suspected there was something wrong with the starter. I trusted her opinion – she knew about cars much more than I did.

I had no energy to focus on my truck, though, and I made a mental note to call the repair shop tomorrow. As Rosalie parked in front of the doctor's office a few minutes later, she turned to give me an encouraging smile. I didn't even have to ask her to come in with me – it was obvious she would.

The doctor was a middle-aged woman. She was very quiet, very friendly. She confirmed what I already knew. As she did an ultrasound, she estimated I was about eight weeks along.

"Everything looks as it should," she assured with a small smile. I just stared at the little blob on the screen, but she didn't seem offended when I couldn't bring myself to answer her.

She was able to remove the copper coil – it hurt less than I thought it would. It was a bit uncomfortable, of course, but I barely paid attention. I kept staring at the ultrasound picture in my hands, giving a soft, distracted laugh when Rosalie said it looked like an alien. I knew she was trying to lift my spirits, or maybe trying to figure out where my head was. I didn't know, to be honest. Everything seemed so surreal, and I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.

The doctor told me to call her if I started bleeding or having cramps, but in the same breath, she assured me she'd seen many IUD pregnancies end happily. Through my daze, I was somehow able to thank her, and then I busied myself with changing out of the uncomfortable examination gown.

I was still feeling more or less like a zombie as Rosalie and I headed back toward my apartment.

"How are you, Bella?" she asked me, throwing me a concerned look.

I let out a sigh. "Fine, I guess." I was still staring at the ultrasound picture, for the millionth time secretly thinking about the little girl I kept dreaming about. A little girl with blonde, untamed curls and blue eyes. "It's just that...it became so real all of a sudden. I don't know what to do now. Or, well...I _do_ know what to do. I just don't know _how_."

"You're going to tell Carlisle?" she asked. "Today?"

I nodded, drawing in a deep breath and carefully putting the picture into my bag. "Yeah. He's probably waiting for me and wondering where I am – I didn't leave him a note or anything before I left." I knew he had probably come home from campus by now, unless something unexpected had come up.

"Well, good luck. I'll stop by at the salon before heading home. Call me and tell me how it went."

I nodded. "Thanks. I will."

Carlisle's car was in the parking lot of my apartment when Rosalie pulled in. After giving me a supportive smile, I got out of the car and made my way to my door with trembling legs.

Carlisle emerged from the living room as I was hanging up my coat; he was holding his phone, but he put it away as he saw me.

"There you are," he said with a small sigh, sounding relieved. "I was just about to call you. Your truck was outside, and when I couldn't find you, I thought you'd gone for a walk..." he trailed off, falling silent.

"Uh...yeah. I mean, no, I wasn't taking a walk. Rosalie dropped me off just now." I made my way into the kitchen, leaving my bag and keys on the counter. "And speaking of my truck...there's something wrong with the starter."

"Oh? I can take a look at it, if you want."

I gave him a small smile. Maybe it didn't reach my eyes, or maybe he sensed something else was going on; he suddenly looked very somber.

"Look, Bella, I wanted to talk to about something," he began, hesitating.

I raised my eyebrows; he sounded so...serious. Worried.

"Okay," I said slowly. "There's something I need to tell you as well."

He nodded. "I see. You know, I might have a hunch about what you want to say."

That surprised me. "You do?" I asked, the words coming out a bit strangled.

He nodded again, regarding me carefully. There was something like sorrow and regret in his eyes. "I noticed you've been distancing yourself from me lately. I wanted to say that...I understand if you want some space." He swallowed hard. "I also wanted you to know I'm still not pressuring you into anything. Maybe we're moving too quickly. When I proposed to you..." he seemed to struggle with whatever he was about to say next, "I understand if you have second thoughts about it. If you want to slow down, just say the word. I'm in no hurry. I want you to know that. If you feel like things are moving too fast with us–"

I let out a breath, shaking my head, and he fell silent.

"Carlisle, that's not what this is. You've misunderstood. I'm happy you proposed to me, and I could never regret saying yes to you. I don't need space. That's not what this is."

He frowned. "Then, what's the matter? You've barely spoken a word to me during these past couple of days. You've been so...so distant. I've never seen you like this. I'm worried."

I nodded. "You're right. I have been...avoiding you."

He crossed the distance between us, taking my hands in his. "What is it, Bella? Tell me what I can do to fix this. If it's something I've said–"

I shook my head. "No, it's not. You've said or done nothing wrong." I pulled in a deep, shaky breath, holding his gaze. "Carlisle, I just came from a doctor's appointment."

He frowned in concern, his eyes alarmed. "What for? Is everything all right? Are you ill?"

"No, I'm not...ill. I...uh...I had to have my copper coil removed."

His frown deepened. "Alright," he said slowly. "Was it dislodged? Or did it give you side effects? I'm sure we can find some other method of contraception – I know you can't probably use the pill because of your migraines, but–"

"I didn't have any side effects," I interrupted quietly. "That's not why...I had the appointment." Again, I drew in a deep, trembling breath. "Last week, when I felt sick...turns out I didn't have a stomach flu. I was feeling ill because...because..." I tried to breathe in again, but my lungs felt frozen. "Because...I'm pregnant."

There. It was out. I exhaled slowly, feeling slightly dizzy.

Carlisle stared at me. All color drained from his face, and then he swayed a bit. I tighened my hold on his hands, worried, but he didn't even seem to be aware of my touch.

When he had been silent for one full minute, I squeezed his fingers. "I didn't...I didn't expect this," I said quietly, swallowing back tears. "The doctor said these things happen sometimes – that it's not the first time she's seen a copper coil fail. She said...everything looks normal. She estimated that...I'm about eight weeks along..." I fell silent, as I realized I was rambling.

He still didn't speak.

"Say something," I whispered. "Please."

His response was to squeeze his eyes closed and withdraw his hands from mine. He looked so pale that, for a moment, I wondered if he was going to pass out. He raked a hand through his hair, turning away from me. I watched him as he slowly paced into the living room, keeping his eyes on the floor.

I followed him, stopping at the doorway and just looking at him quietly.

His eyes were staring blindly at the coffee table, and he remained silent for so long, I thought he might never speak again. After a while, he raised his head and looked at me. I couldn't read his expression.

"Pregnant?" he asked quietly. When I nodded, he closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face, turning his back to me.

He stood still for a long time, and when he eventually moved, it was to turn around and walk briskly toward the door. I stared at him as he brushed past me and grabbed his coat.

"Carlisle, please, don't go. Say something. You're scaring me."

My words made him stop, but he didn't turn around. His shoulders rose and fell slowly – it looked like he was making an effort to keep his breathing calm.

"I...I have to go," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I just...I need a moment, Bella. Just...give me a moment to...I can't..." He shook his head, and without turning to look at me, he reached for the door handle and opened it. He stepped outside, so distraught that he didn't even close the door behind him. After a moment, I heard him start his car and drive off.

I collapsed into the nearest chair, covering my face with my hands.

Had he left because he needed a minute to process my news? Had he left because he was so upset, he felt like he couldn't stay and have a conversation with me? Had he left because he was reliving some dark moment from his past, and he needed a moment to get over it?

Or had he left because...

No. I refused to think about that. He was just shocked and upset, but he'd come back. He just needed time. I remembered how distraught I'd been when I'd found out about this – so, of course, this was even a bigger shock for him. _I_ still couldn't believe the whole thing. And if this was so hard for me to accept, I could only imagine what Carlisle was going through right now.

Not knowing what else to do, I sat down and waited more or less impatiently, trying to stay calm. I shed a few tears – I couldn't help it. All the stress of the past days began to unravel, and suddenly, I felt...exhausted. Just utterly exhausted.

I realized I hadn't expected Carlisle to react quite like this. I'd expected him to be shocked and upset, maybe even a little angry, but I hadn't expected him to rush out like that. Again. And maybe...maybe I hadn't expected him to push me away this time. Like Rosalie had said, we were in this together. We should have been talking this out right now, instead of being apart.

I considered calling him, but something told me he wouldn't answer even if I did.

When an hour had passed, and there was still no sign of Carlisle, I was pretty much ready to flip out. On a whim, I grabbed my coat and keys, and then I made my way outside, locking the door behind me. I couldn't stay still and do nothing – I needed to move, to talk to someone. I needed Rosalie. I needed _someone_. I climbed into my truck, and then, I remembered it wouldn't start. Sighing, I got out and stopped to consider my options.

Would Rosalie still be at the salon? She'd said she'd go there before heading home...but that was over an hour ago. I decided it was worth a try, though. All I knew was I couldn't stay here.

The late November afternoon was cold, and I felt it sharply, as it took a while before I managed to get a cab. A couple of minutes later, I was standing in front of the salon Rosalie's mom owned. The lights were still on, and I stepped inside, only to be disappointed. No one else was there but Rosalie's mother.

"I'm sorry, Bella," she said, giving me a smile, "but Rose already left. Emmett called her – a metal chip flew into his eye while he was working. She had to take him to the ER."

Momentarily, I forgot my own worries. "Oh no. How bad is it?"

"Not that bad. The chip was very small, but that probably means it's even harder to get out." She shook her head. "I sometimes wonder if some construction workers are more prone to accidents than others. Last year, he broke his leg, and now this. Or maybe he's just not focusing on what he's doing. He has too much energy."

I gave a soft chuckle. "That's Emmett. I hope he gets better soon."

"I'll let Rosalie know you stopped by."

"Oh, you don't have to do that. I'll call her tomorrow."

I left after exchanging a few more casual words with her. Stepping outside onto the street, I looked around me without actually seeing anything, wondering what to do next. Where to go. I drew in a deep breath and began to walk, digging my phone from my pocket and dialing Carlisle's number, deciding I could at least try to reach out to him.

It didn't really surprise me when he didn't pick up. I began to wander aimlessly, eventually making my way back toward my apartment. I considered taking a cab again, but I felt wired in a very unpleasant way and decided to walk.

As I was putting my phone back into my pocket, my fingers accidentally touched something, and I frowned confusedly, wondering what it was. Pulling the phone back out, I slipped a hand into my pocket, my fingers closing around something that felt like a small card. A business card.

Then, I remembered – Esme had given it to me on that day at the cemetery. Pulling the card out, I stared at the neatly written number she'd scribbled under her office number. I hesitated.

Should I? What would she think, if I suddenly called her out of the blue? How would she react, if I told her about what had happened? Would she know where Carlisle had gone? Would she know what to do?

I did know _one_ thing – she was probably the only person in this world who had any insight on Carlisle's current state of mind. She was probably the only person who could guess what was running through his head right now – and what I could do to help him.

I kept on walking at a slow pace, dialing her number more or less hesitantly, and my heart began to race as I raised the phone to my ear. Esme answered on the third ring.

" _Esme Banner._ "

Swallowing thickly, I cleared my throat, suddenly not knowing what to say. Where to begin. "Hi. Uh...it's Bella."

" _Bella, hi! I'm so glad you called. We were just talking about you._ "

"We?" I asked, my heart jumping.

" _I'm at Edward's. I stopped by on my way home from the office._ "

"Oh. Tell him I said hi." I tried to keep my voice light, but it was hard; I realized I was crying again. Damn hormones.

Apparently, Esme heard that my voice was off. " _Are you crying?_ _Is everything all right?_ "

"Uh...yes and no. You don't happen to know where Carlisle is, do you? Or does Edward know? Has he seen him?"

She was silent for a beat. " _No. Carlisle's not here, if that's what you mean. What's the matter, dear? Has something happened?_ _"_

I heard Edward's anxious voice asking if something was wrong, but Esme shushed him. In any other situation, that would have made me laugh. I let out a trembling breath, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

And then I told her everything. I told her about the pregnancy, about how the IUD had failed, and I told her about Carlisle's reaction to my news.

"What should I do?" I asked, wiping my eyes again. "He was so upset, and the way he stormed off..." I pulled in a shaky breath, sniffling. "I tried to call him, but he's not answering. Maybe I should take a cab and go see if he's at his house. I'm worried about him."

Esme considered for a moment. " _You know, Bella...I don't think he's at his house._ "

"Then where is he?"

I heard her give a sad sigh. " _Probably battling his demons._ "

And suddenly, I knew. I actually couldn't understand why I hadn't instantly realized where he had gone. "He went to the cemetery, didn't he?"

" _That's my guess_ ," she answered quietly. _"I understand why you're worried, but he'll come around, Bella. I'm sure of it. He's just in shock – give him some time. Let him work this out by himself."_ She paused, hesitating. " _Maybe you're not in the mood for this, but...congratulations._ "

I gave a soft laugh, but it came out as a sob. "Thanks."

" _Where are you now?_ "

I glanced at the sign close to me, telling her the name of the street. I stopped and waited for the light to turn green. I heard her repeat the name of the street to Edward.

" _Edward will come and pick you up,_ " she told me. " _You shouldn't be alone now and out walking in the cold. Have Edward drive you home – or you can come here, if you want. Carlisle will call you or go look for you when he's ready. He's probably beating himself up, even as we speak, wishing he hadn't stormed out like he did. He's just scared, Bella. Even after all these years, he hasn't forgiven himself, hasn't moved on...but maybe now he can. I always wanted him to have a second chance, and this is it. Just don't let him pull away._ "

"I won't," I promised. "As soon as he gets back, we'll talk this out. No matter how long it takes." I dashed a hand across my eyes again. "Can you tell Edward I'll wait for him at the café where I work? He knows where it is. It's not far from where I am now." The light turned green, and I began to cross the street.

" _Of course, dear. Edward will be there in a few minutes..._ "

I heard Esme say something else, or maybe she asked a question, but the words were lost to me. Because suddenly, the world exploded into chaos. Car horns blared, but just as I became aware of the cacophony of noises, a massive weight smashed into me from out of nowhere.

I didn't know if I was falling or flying. There was just an odd sensation of weightlessness, and then, there was pain. Everywhere. And then...it wasn't just pain. My body exploded into agony, worse than anything I'd ever known.

Before the darkness claimed me, my last thought was of cornflower blue eyes.


	28. Peace

**_"In order to heal we must first forgive... and sometimes the person we must forgive is ourselves."_**

\- Mila Bron -

* * *

 **Peace**

 _For a moment that seemed to last forever, there was just was darkness. It was as if nothing existed. Not even me._

 _I'd suppose it should have felt distressing, opressive, but it felt like freedom._

 _My body felt light and weightless. As I became aware of this, I also came to realize I really did have a body, after all. That I really existed. That, even though there was only darkness, I was somewhere there, too. Wherever "there" was._

 _And still, there was no distress. No fear. Not even when I became aware of the sounds around me. When the sounds became voices, and the voices were accompanied by gentle touches, I still wasn't afraid. As the world returned to me slowly, or maybe it was me returning to the world, I just felt unspeakably calm and peaceful._

 _As soon as I opened my eyes, the voices ceased. The gentle touches left my skin. Something else took their place; at first, I thought I was staring at a bright, golden light, but then, the obscure figure in front of me slowly took shape, making me realize I was looking at a small girl with golden, unruly hair and blue eyes. She was smiling._

 _I shifted, intending to stand up so I could see her better. But I'd barely managed to finish the thought when I realized I was already standing. Maybe I had been all this time._

 _"You came," the girl said, sounding delighted._

 _"Of course I did," I heard myself answer. I felt like I'd been dropped into the middle of a conversation, a conversation I knew nothing about, but it didn't seem to bother me at all. My mouth formed the words without my conscious mind knowing it. "Did you expect me not to?"_

 _She grinned. "No. I knew you'd come. I know a lot of things."_

 _"You do?" I smiled sweetly at her. "What else do you know?"_

 _"Can't tell you. It's cheating."_

 _"Says who?"_

 _"Daddy." She paused, biting her lip. "He misses you."_

 _That made me frown. "He does?"_

 _The girl nodded._

 _"But why?" I asked. "I haven't gone anywhere. He knows that."_

 _"He forgets," she explained and then shook her head reverently. "You know what he's like. He remembers the wrong things, but he forgets the things he's supposed to remember. You have to tell him that. You have to show him. You can't let him forget. Do you promise? Will you teach him?"_

 _In a way, this discussion made no sense, but at the same time...it kind of did. I didn't know how, though, or why. Or maybe, I couldn't remember – maybe I'd forgotten something, too._

 _"I promise," I told the girl. Once again, my mouth formed the words without my go-ahead. "You know, you're very wise for one so young."_

 _"I am," the girl answered. "Just like Alice."_

 _"Alice is here?"_

 _"She was, but she had to go do something," she shrugged. "She'll be back."_

 _"Where is she now?"_

 _"She's busy with him," she glanced up at me._

 _"Who?" I asked._

 _The girl just smiled._

 _"Okay," I frowned, confused, and suddenly, it was bothering me, that confusion. I started to ask more questions, but she just shook her head and crossed her arms, determined not to say anything further._

 _"No cheating. Best to leave it alone for now," the girl suggested. "We're very stubborn."_

 _That made me chuckle. "I know. You both get it from your father."_

 _The girl nodded. "He's waiting for you, you know. You have to go to him now."_

 _I looked around me, frowning once again. Then, I looked back at the girl, noticing she was backing away from me._

 _"Wait," I told her. "Marie, wait." I didn't know how I suddenly knew her name – the information was just there, in my head._

 _"You have to go," she said again. "You can't stay. If you do, the earth has no reason to turn."_

 _"What do you mean by that? Why can't I stay?"_

 _"Because he's waiting for you. Because you're the moon to his tide. Because he doesn't care about seeing the sun ever again, just as long as you're there. And if you suddenly aren't..." The girl named Marie fell silent, smiling sadly. It was her father's smile._

 _I nodded, understanding. And as soon as I did...she disappeared. And then, I was scared, because I didn't know what it meant that she was no longer there. Or maybe I was no longer there. Maybe it was me who had disappeared. Maybe it was me who had left. This possibility scared me even more, but I didn't know why._

 _It was dark again. This was a different kind of darkness. It was heavy, and it was overwhelming, and I just wanted out. Out, out, out. But there was no one to show me the way, simply because there was no way. There was just an endless forever of nothing, and I was somewhere in there, drifting, drowning in the depths of darkness._

* * *

Slowly, I became aware of the sounds around me. There was a loud beeping – or at least it seemed very loud to me. There was a heaviness to my body and mind, like I was anchored, a heaviness that shouldn't have been there.

I also realized I was kind of cold, but for some reason, my muscles weren't trembling to generate heat. It was like every cell in my body was exhausted.

There was something that broke through the haze of discomfort, through the thick fog of heaviness. A warm hand tightening around my own. As I became aware of the touch, my ears began to pick up more sounds. Voices. I couldn't catch the words, though, and when I was finally able to gather enough focus to listen, the voices kept fading in and out, like an out-of-tune radio.

"...Don't do this to yourself, Carlisle. Not again. You have to believe what the doctors are telling you..."

It was a soft voice. A feminine voice. I'd heard it before, but only twice. The other voice that answered was more quiet, but not soft. Something that was broken couldn't be soft, after all.

"...I'll never forgive myself if...what if I hadn't...this wouldn't have happened if I..."

I frowned, trying to focus, but my ears refused to cooperate.

"...This has to stop now, Carlisle. This has gone on long enough. Someone has to draw the line, and I'm drawing it right here and right now. Look, nothing's going to–" The voice fell silent. "Carlisle, she's awake!"

Oh. I'd opened my eyes – I didn't realize that until now. The room was dimly lit, but still, keeping my eyes open kind of hurt for some reason.

"Bella? Oh, thank God. Bella, sweetheart, can you hear me?" It was the quiet voice, the broken voice. The warm hand around mine tightened.

"I'll get the nurse," the other voice said.

I blinked, trying to focus my gaze on the face hovering above mine. Trying to see the eyes that were so desperately searching my own.

Blue. Blue like cornflowers, like the ocean at its deepest.

"Carlisle," I breathed.

A sound, something like a relieved laugh or a sob left his mouth. "I'm right here, Bella. Everything's alright. You're alright." His fingers tightened around mine again, and he raised his free hand to his face, wiping it across his eyes. They were wet. Swollen and red-rimmed. The familiar shadows under them were darker than before, like they'd been drawn with charcoal.

"What's wrong?" I asked, and I had to take a break; for some reason, speaking took a lot of energy.

He made that sound again, but this time, it was a bit choked. "Nothing's wrong," he soothed me, drawing in an unsteady breath and dashing a hand across his face again. "Nothing's wrong. Not anymore. Everything's absolutely right."

My eyes wanted to slip closed, but I forced them open. "Why...crying?"

"I'm just very glad to see you with your eyes open, that's all."

"How long...were they closed?"

He kissed my knuckles. "Three days. They had to keep you sedated for a while."

I struggled to understand. "What happened? Where am I?"

He frowned, but I could see he tried not show me his worry. "You don't remember?"

I shook my head, but that hurt, and instantly, warm hands were framing my face. "Don't try to move. You have to stay still for a while. You're in the hospital, Bella."

"What happened?" I asked again, desperate to know. For some reason, it was important that I understood. I also had a feeling there was something I had to remember – that there was something I should be worried about, but my mind resisted.

"We'll talk about it later," Carlisle answered, taking my hand again. "I promise. You have to rest now."

I wanted to tell him I didn't want to rest, that I needed to talk about this now, but my eyes slipped closed of their own accord.

A door was opened somewhere close by. I didn't see or hear Esme stepping inside with a nurse; by the time they reached my bed, I was fast asleep.

* * *

The next time I woke up, for some reason, I had a feeling I was in a different room than the last time I'd opened my eyes. My mind felt a little clearer, but my limbs still felt heavy. I was exhausted, like I had run a thousand miles. The beeping sound was still there – I'd suppose it meant I was still alive.

Those weren't the only things that had stayed the same. There was still a warm hand holding mine. Or more like _resting_ on mine. I turned my head gingerly, my eyes settling on Carlisle. He was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair next to my bed. His eyes were closed, but after a second, he seemed to force them open – he looked like he was about to nod off any moment now.

He pulled in a deep breath and shifted in his chair, turning to look my way. When he noticed my eyes were open, he was on his feet in less than a second, his obvious exhaustion disappearing immediately.

"Bella, hey." He took my hand and carefully placed it on my stomach, so he could sit down on the edge of the bed. I realized something was taped across my face, under my nose, and there seemed to be tubes and wires everywhere. "How long have you been awake?" he asked, stroking my cheek gently.

"I could ask you the same," I murmured quietly, my eyes taking in his disheveled appearance. He looked like hell. The purple circles under his eyes were darker and more prominent than I'd ever seen them, and his hair looked like he'd run his fingers through it at least a hundred times. His blue button-down shirt was wrinkly and only partly tucked in.

He gave a soft chuckle at my words. "I'm good at staying awake. You should know that by now," he answered quietly. "Don't worry about me. How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"

I frowned, considering his question. "I'm aching all over," I admitted. "It's like...someone used me as their punching bag or something. And not just once."

Carlisle's small smile fell, and he swallowed, taking my hand again and kissing it gently. "God, Bella...you scared me. You have no idea. No idea." He shook his head, closing his eyes and holding my hand to his lips.

"What happened?" I asked, trying very hard to remember why I was here.

He pulled in a deep, slow breath. "What's the last thing you remember?"

I stared at the lights over my head. "Uh...I was...I left the salon. I was looking for Rosalie. And then I called someone...Esme?"

Carlisle nodded. When he began to talk, his voice was forcibly calm. His speech was slow, fragmented, like he was struggling to get the words out.

"You were on the phone with her...when you were crossing the street. There was a car – someone was speeding – and the light was red for the driver. Maybe he was intoxicated – according to the eyewitnesses, his driving was reckless and erratic. He hit two other cars before...before hitting you. Luckily, you'd nearly crossed the street by the time the car reached you." He paused, swallowing. "A second earlier, and I wouldn't be here talking to you."

I stared at him, trying to take it all in, and at the same time, I was trying to remember why I'd been on the phone with Esme. I knew it was something important. I'd been upset about something, not knowing what to do...

And then, it all came back in a rush, in far too vivid detail. The heart monitor went crazy, and I gasped, nearly bolting up from the bed, but Carlisle anticipated my movement, gently holding my shoulders and keeping me still.

"Carlisle – Carlisle, the baby!"

"Shh," he tried to soothe me, still holding me by the shoulders. "Bella, calm down – you shouldn't be moving. Everything's fine. And the baby...the baby's fine, too. I promise. Now, try to breathe more slowly. Everything's alright. I swear. Take a deep breath. Can you do that for me?"

I didn't even realize I was gasping for air, and I briefly wondered why breathing hurt so much, but I didn't dwell on that. I placed a hand on my stomach, still staring at him. He gave me a soft, sad smile, resting his own hand on top of mine.

"Everything's fine," he repeated quietly. His eyes were smiling, but they were suddenly full of shadows, too. "But I can't stress enough how lucky you are, Bella. _Both_ of you. You have no idea how close it was." He laced his fingers around mine. "You have three broken ribs, a small crack in your skull, bruises and cuts all over you, and you lost a lot of blood. They had to give you a transfusion. I can't even tell you..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "You have no idea how much it scared me, hearing what'd happened..."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He gave a choked laugh; it almost sounded like a sob. " _You're_ sorry? Bella, I'm the one who should apologize. Don't you realize – don't you _understand_ that you're here because of me? Because of how I behaved?" He stared at me, his eyes so full of agony it made my breath catch.

"When you told me you're pregnant...and when I stormed out like that..." He shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed. "If I hadn't...if I'd stayed with you...if I'd been enough of a man to stay, instead of running away like a coward..." He paused, closing his eyes. "And for God's sake, you called me, and I didn't answer, just because I selfishly thought I wasn't ready to talk to you just yet..."

"Carlisle, stop," I said quietly. "You ignore the fact that maybe I should've just stayed home. I knew you were upset, and I knew you needed time to come to terms with what I'd told you. You asked me to give you a moment, after all. I should've just waited for you to come around. This...this is not your fault. And besides, you know me. I'm an incurable trouble magnet – that's pretty much the first thing you learned about me. I'm sure I'd have ended up here sooner or later. I'm probably the most accident-prone person in Seattle."

He didn't even crack a smile at my small jest. He drew in a slow breath, keeping his eyes closed for a while more, and when he finally opened them, he just sat there and looked at me for a long time, not saying anything.

"Bella, if this had ended worse than it has...if you'd lost the pregnancy...if you hadn't pulled through..." He let out a trembling sigh. "I'll never forgive myself that I let this happen. I can't even–"

I tried to lift a finger to his lips to silence him, but the sudden movement made me wince. His brows pulled together in worry, and he took my hand in both of his, bringing my knuckles to his lips.

"Stop that," I said quietly. "Stop living in what ifs. I'm here, and I'll be fine."

"But still...I'm so sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry about everything. I'm sorry I left like that after you told me you're pregnant. It's no excuse, but I was so shocked, and I didn't know what to think..."

I nodded. "I know. I understand." I watched him closely. "Where did you go, by the way? After you left my apartment?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

His blue eyes were hard to read. "I was...I can't really remember where I went, at first. But at some point...I realized I was in the cemetery. I still don't know how long I was there. And then...and then Edward called, and when I didn't pick up, he called again and again. I answered...eventually. When he told me what had happened to you..." He swallowed and fell silent, closing his eyes.

"You have no idea how many thoughts rushed through my mind during that one single second, Bella," he continued after a moment, opening his eyes. "There I was, standing at the grave of my daughter, after finding out I'd become a father again. I was distraught and afraid and happy, and millions of other things at the same time. And then Edward calls me and tells me you'd been in an accident, and it looked bad, that they'd just lifted you into the ambulance..."

He paused, swallowing thickly. "There are no words to describe that feeling. All I knew was that, if you didn't survive...that if something happened to the baby..." His lips pressed against my hand again, and after that, he said nothing.

"What happened to the driver?" I asked quietly after a while. "You said the light was red for him, didn't you?"

He nodded. "The police ran the plates. They're still looking for him. Like I earlier mentioned, he hit two other cars before crashing into you. They'll find him, and once they do..." He paused, something like cold fury flaring in his eyes, before he drew in a calming breath and let it out slowly.

"Revenge...anger...those things won't make you feel better," I told him softly.

He sighed. "I know. But carelessnes...I've lost too much because of someone else's carelessness, Bella. The thought of losing you as well, just because someone didn't know how to cap their liquor bottle..." He shook his head, falling silent. His face was like stone, his lips just a thin line now.

I squeezed his hand; for some reason, even that hurt a bit. I'd suppose he was right, and I had bruises everywhere. I felt like it. I shifted gingerly, trying to turn my head, but I had to stop immediately. From the corner of my eye, I saw there was something on the table beside the bed; several vases full of flowers. I frowned at them; no one had ever brought me flowers before.

Carlisle noticed the flowers had caught my attention. He gave me a sad smile.

"You've had a lot of guests while you were out. Rosalie stopped by two hours ago, but you were sleeping. She told me to tell you she'll come by later to see if you're awake." He paused, smiling ruefully. "She's furious with me, but I deserve it."

"Don't be silly. She didn't make good on her threat and go medieval on your male parts, did she?"

He gave a soft chuckle. "Well, no. She actually said...well, she said she didn't want the father of your baby to look like he'd gone through a mincer."

I closed my eyes, slightly appalled. "Nice."

He chuckled again.

"Does my mom know?" I asked. "That I'm here?"

He nodded. "Yes. She's actually one of those guests I mentioned – she brought those mini sunflowers over there. She's been worried sick – I gave her the keys to your apartment, so she could go and take a nap."

"She's here in Seattle?"

He smiled. "She said she's not going to leave until she's managed to see you with your eyes open at least once." He paused, hesitating. "Your father's here, too. And he hates me," he stated with a dry smile. "My God, you have no idea."

"Come on. He'll love you, once he gets to know you. Did you tell him about our engagement?"

"Actually, your mother beat me to it. You know, Bella, I've never seen a man's face change colors so quickly. It kind of worried me a bit – I thought he was going to have a stroke when he heard we weren't merely dating, but actually engaged. Your mother was very sweet and kept defending me when your father threatened to handcuff me for going near his daughter in the first place."

I closed my eyes. "Jesus. Well, usually, Charlie is very nice. He's just prone to overreacting sometimes. And I'm not surprised Renée stepped in to defend you – she knows how much I care about you." I paused, searching his face. "Do they know about...the baby?"

He reached out to stroke my cheek. "Your mother does," he said quietly. "I had to tell her – I just couldn't keep it inside. I was so scared, and she stayed up with me through that first night..."

I nodded. "It's okay. I'm glad she knows. And we'll tell Charlie together – that way, if he threatens to handcuff you, I can defend you this time."

Carlisle gave a sad, soft laugh. "I wonder what he'll think, when he hears about it."

"I'm sure the thought of becoming a grandfather will be more than pleasant, once he gets used to the idea, " I assured. I watched him closely as he reached out, placing a hand on my lower stomach.

He looked like he wasn't even completely aware of doing that. I couldn't read the look in his eyes; it was something like tender. Something like concerned. Something like...afraid.

"What about you?" I asked quietly.

He met my gaze, not removing his hand. There was uncertainty in his eyes now. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...what do you think about this, now that the worst of the shock has worn off?"

He gave me a small smile. "You know, I'm not at all sure if it _has_ worn off. This feels...so surreal." He shook his head, his eyes bewildered. "I'm...I'm horrified, of course. But...also thrilled. How a person can be filled with happiness and panic at the same time is beyond me. But that's how I feel. One thing's for sure, though. I've been given a second chance here – maybe there is a God, after all – and I'll be damned if I'll fail this time around. I'm not going to fail you, Bella, or this child. I promise." The look in his eyes was so determined, so earnest.

Even though it hurt a bit, I reached out a hand carefully, raising it to his cheek. "You never failed, Carlisle," I told him. "Not even with Alice. You have to start believing it. If you don't...you'll never heal." I held his gaze. "Promise me. Promise me you'll at least try to believe it. That what happened to Alice wasn't your fault."

He swallowed, placing his hand on top of mine. He stayed silent for a long time, just looking at me. Eventually, he nodded slowly, hesitantly, as if he had to force himself to acknowledge my words.

"I'll try," he whispered. "I promise."

Closing my eyes, I smiled. I considered telling him about the dream I'd had. I remembered the little girl with golden hair; she'd had her father's blue eyes, her father's sad smile. I remembered telling her that she was wise for one so young. _I am. Just like Alice._

I wondered why I could remember the dream so vividly. I was glad I did, though. There had been something comforting about the dream, and even thinking about it now made me feel...peaceful.

Speaking of dreams and sleeping...Carlisle suddenly ran a hand down his face, blinking rapidly.

"When was the last time you slept?" I asked quietly.

He turned to look at me, giving me a wan smile. "I can't remember, to be honest. But it doesn't matter. I'm not leaving."

"I'm not asking you to leave. I mean, of course, I'd be pleased if you agreed to go home and sleep a few hours–"

"I'm not leaving," he repeated quietly.

I sighed, and then I nodded toward the recliner at the foot of the bed. "Then move over there. You look like you're dead on your feet. Seriously, nothing's going to happen, if you shut your eyes for a moment." When I saw the stubborn set of his jaw, I gave him a mock-glare. "Carlisle Cullen, if you don't do as I ask, I'm going to call the nurse and have her slip a sedative in your coffee."

He gave a dry chuckle. "That'd be very unethical." Sighing, he got up reluctantly, and at first, I didn't realize why he took the chair and pulled it away from the bed. When he went to the recliner and began to move it, I understood.

"Careful, old man. Don't pull a muscle. Or break your hip."

He snorted softly and flicked me a glance, before he proceeded to drag the recliner closer to the bed. After he'd moved the IV pole slightly, he routinely checked the monitors – I wondered if it was an ingrained habit from his days as a doctor, or maybe he just wanted to be thorough. Apparently, everything looked normal. Satisfied, he stepped back from the monitors and sat down, taking my hand again, his eyes set on mine.

I gave a pointed glance at the recliner. "You can lean that thing back all the way, you know."

I saw what he was thinking from the stubborn set of his mouth, and that was why his response didn't surprise me. "I don't intend to sleep that long. I'm just going to rest my eyes for a bit." He squeezed my hand and kept watching me.

"If you're going to rest your eyes, closing them first is usually required," I pointed out, smiling. He chuckled, leaning his head back, and after holding my gaze for a while more, he closed his eyes, never letting go of my hand.

"I'm never going to leave you, Bella," he murmured softly, his voice sleepy. "I'll quit my job if I have to. I'm not letting you out of my sight. I'm going to roll you in bubble wrap until the baby is born...and maybe keep both of you wrapped up until..."

I never knew how long a time he was going to keep me and the baby wrapped up in bubble wrap; he was fast asleep, before he managed to finish his sentence.

I smiled, carefully squeezing his hand. As I watched him sleep, my mind kept drifting to the little girl with golden hair and her father's smile, and...and I wondered if she was still somewhere out there, wherever _there_ was. I wondered if she had found out what Alice had been up to. I wondered if I would ever know.


	29. Healing

_**A/N:**_ _This last chapter is quite short, and it's also pretty "epiloguish" since it jumps ahead in time, but it's not the epilogue. I'll be posting it on Saturday. I hope you enjoy!  
_

* * *

 _ **"I cannot remember exactly the first time your soul whispered to mine, but I know you woke it. And it has never slept since."**_

\- JM Storm -

* * *

 **Healing**

"What if it's a girl?"

My voice was quiet, just a notch above a whisper. I felt Carlisle shift, and he withdrew his hand from the slope of my stomach and reached over me, turning on the bedside light. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust. His hand slipped back under the covers, pulling back the hem of my T-shirt, and then his palm came to rest on my stomach again.

Maybe it was his warm touch that had woken me in the first place a couple of minutes ago; it wouldn't be the first time. Countless times before, during the past weeks, I had stirred awake to the light touch of his lips or the gentle stroke of his fingers on my slowly growing belly. And countless times before, quiet, murmured words had reached my ears, words that were too quiet for me to hear.

Some people talked to their unborn child, some people played music, some people liked to sing. But Carlisle...Carlisle always whispered. It was as if he was afraid of scaring the baby. It was as if...as if he was afraid of breaking the spell. It was as if he was afraid that, if he began to speak out loud, everything around him would disappear.

I kept hoping that, maybe one day, he'd stop whispering.

Gently, he ran his hand over the arch of my belly. The touch was careful, protective. I knew it soothed him to feel the movements and kicks of the baby against his palm. At least it soothed me, knowing that feeling those things brought him comfort. Peace.

The baby had begun to give me bruises a week earlier; there was still a dark, purple patch where my ribs ended, and even though it was a little sensitive to the touch, I didn't mind at all that it was there. If I wasn't so scared of needles, I might have considered having the bruise tattooed on my stomach after the baby was born. That was how much I'd miss having him – or her – doing cartwheels inside my womb. We had decided to wait to find out the gender, but whatever it was, this kid was a kicker.

Sensing Carlisle's gaze, I turned my head to meet his eyes; he was lying on his side, facing me, his head propped up by his other hand.

"What if it is?" I asked again. "A girl?"

He was silent for a moment. "Why do you ask? Do you...do you think it'd make me sad?"

I regarded him silently. "I don't know. Would it?"

A small frown pulled at his brows. He stroked his hand over my stomach again.

"No. I don't think it would," he answered eventually, speaking slowly. "Not long ago, I was worried it might. I was worried...it'd make me remember things I didn't want to remember. But...maybe that's something I shouldn't be worried about. Maybe I _should_ remember. Maybe...maybe it's about time I stop being afraid of...remembering things."

I gave him a soft smile. "Maybe you've been remembering the wrong things until now," I suggested, "And maybe you've forgotten the things you should remember."

He gave me a long look. "That's a wise way to look at it, I suppose."

I smiled again. "Someone once said something like that to me," I murmured, thinking about the little girl with hair full of sunshine.

Carlisle leaned down to press a soft kiss on my cheek. "Do you have a feeling, then...that it might be a girl?"

"There's a little girl in my dreams. She keeps coming back."

He smiled. "What does she look like?"

"She has your blue eyes and your sad smile. And she has your golden hair as well. It's all unruly and disheveled – I suppose we can blame her Uncle Edward for that."

He chuckled. "And what will she get from _you?_ If she has my eyes and my hair..."

"Well, I hope she won't get my clumsiness. Because...imagine if she turns out like Seth – imagine if she's just as restless, always going, going, going, never staying still. The poor thing will be covered is stitches and bandages. We might have to build a brick wall around the house, you know."

"That's a good idea. When she grows up and becomes as beautiful as you, we'll be having a lot of trouble keeping all those young men away. I'll have to put locks on her windows, and when we get her a car, I'll have to disconnect the battery cables every night before we go to bed."

I chuckled, pleased he was able to talk about the future so lightly, even joke about it. He'd come a long way during these last few months. "That won't help, you know. She'll be hanging out with Rosalie, after all. And Rosalie _will_ teach her everything about cars. I'm afraid we'll have to find another way to keep Mar – I mean, _her_ , in check."

Carlisle gave me a curious look. "What did you just call her?"

I gave an embarrased laugh, hesitating. "In my dreams...her name is Marie."

He smiled softly. "Really?"

I nodded.

He stroked my stomach again, very gently. "Marie...that's a beautiful name. Why haven't you said anything until now? That's perfect, since it's also your middle name."

"I got that name from my grandmother," I murmured. "As for why I haven't said anything..." I hesitated. "I don't know. I guess I was worried, since...well, Alice was _Mary_ Alice. I assumed that, maybe Marie resembles her name too much."

Carlisle considered my words carefully, staying silent for a moment. "Mary was the name of my mother. Mary Elizabeth," he revealed, his voice soft. "Esme wanted Alice to be her middle name...and we somehow ended up calling her that. She always just _looked_ like an Alice to us, you know?" he chuckled quietly, and I was surprised to see him smiling. "But the name Marie...I think it's a beautiful name, like I said. It reminds me of Alice, yes, but...you know, for some reason, I find it almost...comforting."

I smiled. "Okay. I'm glad to hear that. I like Marie as well. Would it be her first name or middle name?"

"You often see it as a middle name, I guess. But...I think it should be her first name." He shifted, resting his head on the pillow, pressing a soft kiss on my shoulder. "What do you think?"

"I think I like it. And I think we'll have to find a middle name for her now. Oh – _ow!"_

Carlisle hissed in sympathy, as the baby kicked – _hard_ – and then he chuckled softly. "She either disagrees strongly about the name, or else she has something other to say."

It took a while until I managed to answer – I was still trying to catch my breath. "You know, I have a thing or two to say to her as well. Or they're polite requests, more likely."

"Let me guess. You'd appreciate it if she left at least some of your ribs unbroken, and if that's alright with her, you'd also kindly like to ask if there was any way she could adjust her sleeping patterns to match yours?"

"You read my mind. I don't understand what Mother Nature was thinking, making babies more active at night. That's just...illogical. If she keeps us awake now, what will it be like when she comes out?"

He chuckled. "Maybe that's the point. Maybe this is a way to prepare us for staying up all night long."

"Long-term sleep deprivation is a poor way to prepare for _anything_."

The baby kicked again, and he smiled, his hand leaving my stomach as he reached over me to turn out the bedside light. It was dark, then, and I sighed contentedly, as Carlisle's hand returned to the curve of my belly.

It was silent for a while. It was a silence full of breathing and quiet heartbeats, a silence full of unspoken thoughts. And then, that peaceful silence ended abruptly as the baby gave another kick that was so hard, Carlisle's hand shifted. He broke into quiet chuckles.

"Usually, only girls have such precise aim," he stated. "No wonder you have bruises."

I gave a soft laugh. "I don't mind the bruises. Actually, I think I'll miss them, as strange as it sounds." I closed my eyes, covering his hand with mine. "Have you thought of a middle name yet?"

"Is that a subtle way to say I get to choose it?"

I smiled. "Of course. It's only fair, since the name Marie came from me."

"Hmm. I suppose I have some thinking to be done, then. Or maybe not – maybe the name will come to me in a dream, just like Marie did for you."

"Maybe."

It was silent again, then. In a few moments, only the baby and myself were still fully awake; very soon, Carlisle's inhales and exhales deepened, slowing into an even rhythm.

During the night, his hand never left stomach, and the baby never stopped kicking, never stopped moving. She – or he – persistently kept me awake, but just like I didn't mind the bruises, I didn't mind the sleeplessness, either. Carlisle didn't wake to the restless movements of the baby, but I had a feeling that, on some level, he was completely aware of them, even in sleep.

I wondered what he was dreaming about. Would the girl with golden hair and blue eyes visit him as well? Maybe. I was suddenly certain he'd get to sleep without nightmares tonight. That he wouldn't have to awaken to an empty darkness, to the loud beating of his scared heart, to the sharp sound of his own breathing. His mind wouldn't be filled with memories of Alice's last day.

Maybe he'd start reliving other memories. The good memories. Maybe he'd remember her first smile, instead of her last. Maybe he'd think about her first laughter, her first steps, her first words.

Maybe...maybe there would be healing. Peace. Even for him.

The baby kicked again, and in his sleep, Carlisle stroked his hand over my stomach in a soothing manner and sighed. Even in sleep, he never stopped protecting, never stopped loving. I smiled in the darkness, closing my eyes and trying to leave the world of wakefulness behind.

Yes. Maybe there would be healing. Peace.

Even for him.


	30. Epilogue: Repose

**_"The repose of sleep refreshes only the body._**

 ** _It rarely sets the soul at rest._**

 ** _The repose of the night does not belong to us._**

 ** _It is not the possession of our being._**

 ** _Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms._**

 ** _In the morning we must sweep out the shadows."_**

\- Gaston Bachelard -

* * *

 **Epilogue: Repose**

I didn't know what awakened me. For a moment, I just lay still, slowly blinking the sleep from my eyes. And then, I listened. If it was a sound that had woken me, I had a feeling it couldn't have been very loud. That was one of those things that came with motherhood, I'd suppose; you tended to wake up to the smallest of disturbances, to the slightest of noises. It was both a blessing and a curse.

I reached out a hand, not surprised to find the bed empty beside me. The sheets were cool, making me wonder how long Carlisle had been up.

I gave a quiet sigh. It wasn't the first time I'd woken to an empty bed, and it wouldn't be the last. I turned my head, my eyes adjusting quickly to the dim lighting of the room. There was a faint nightlight close to the bed, and what I saw in its soft, blue glow made me smile sadly. For a moment, I just watched Carlisle's familiar figure, my gaze following the line of his broad shoulders. They were slightly hunched, as he leaned over the crib that stood close to the bed. He was restless, again, anxious. I saw it from his posture, from the way his head hung.

I sat up slowly, and he heard my movement, straightening and turning to look my way.

"Is the baby hungry?" I asked sleepily, keeping my voice quiet. I rubbed a hand over my eyes, turning on the bedside light. "Is he being fussy again?"

It was a moment before Carlisle answered. "No. No, he's sleeping."

"Why aren't you in bed, then? What is it?"

He let out a quiet sigh. "Nothing," he whispered. "I just...I just wanted to make sure...he's breathing."

Hearing his quiet words, the hidden fear in his voice...it made my heart ache.

"Carlisle...of course he's breathing," I said gently. "Why wouldn't he be? And besides, we have that breathing monitor – the one you insisted on getting. It'll alert us if something's wrong. You know that."

Again, he was silent for a moment before he spoke. "I just...I just wanted to make sure, that's all."

I got up slowly, rounding the bed and quietly padding my way to him. When I reached him, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and drew me against him, pressing his face into my hair and drawing in a deep breath.

The small baby boy sleeping in the crib had no idea he was keeping his parents awake – and he wasn't even crying. Most parents would be more than happy if their child was as quiet and calm as ours, but...well, silence was something Carlisle couldn't stand. It was his greatest demon, his worst nightmare, his most unyielding fear. Unnatural quiet. Cries and weeps that were forever silent.

Sometimes, silence could torture a person more than chaos and tumult ever could. Sometimes, the peace after the storm was worse than the storm itself. Because, sometimes...sometimes, peace and calm meant something was over. That something had come to an end. That something had left and would never return.

But luckily...luckily, the world wasn't split into storms and the moments of calm after them. Sometimes, there could be a soft, warm breeze, a faint breath of wind. And sometimes, they changed your life, those breezes, turned it upside down, just as surely as any chaos or storm might.

I stared at the peacefully slumbering baby in the crib. Our own soft, warm breeze. Our little Noah Edward Charlie Cullen.

Noah. The name meant rest, repose. Comfort. He was all those things to us, to Carlisle, even in moments like this, when all he felt like doing was to pace restlessly and stay awake hour after hour, guarding the sleep of the dreaming baby. This wasn't the first night I'd found him leaning over the crib, counting the quiet breaths of his newborn son, making sure he was still here. That he was still with us.

I felt him press a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"I thought...this would be easier than this. That it wouldn't be so..." he trailed off with a quiet sigh and fell silent, his arm tightening around me.

"Maybe it's not supposed to be easy," I murmured. "Maybe there'll always be that nagging fear, that whisper of uncertainty. Maybe that's part of every parent's life, and one just has to accept it."

"Maybe," he agreed quietly. He breathed in slowly, drawing in the scent of my hair, and then, he sighed again. "I'm sorry if I woke you. I didn't mean to. I'm sure you're tired enough already. I just...I couldn't sleep. I had to get up and...see him."

"I know," I assured quietly, pulling back to look at him. "How long have you been awake?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. I kind of lost track of time, watching him." Then, he smiled softly, his eyes returning to the sleeping baby.

"Can't really blame you for that." I smiled as well, reaching down and carefully touching one tiny, chubby cheek. He had his father's cheekbones, I thought, and his father's chin. He had my dark hair, and his eyes were a startling shade of blue, but it was impossible to tell if they'd stay that way, since babies' eyes changed color after a few months. We just had to wait and see.

I stifled a yawn, and Carlisle chuckled, pressing a soft kiss on my temple. He began to lead me back to the bed, and I didn't resist. As we crawled under the covers, I saw Carlisle reach out to touch the small, framed picture on his bedside table. A little girl with cornflower blue eyes and dark, unruly hair stared back at him, smiling brightly. After a while, he lay down with a quiet sigh. It wasn't a sad sigh, but wistful, perhaps.

I turned off the lamp on the bedside table. The faint nightlight on the other side of the room kept glowing softly, tenderly, like the moon and the stars outside.

I turned onto my side, and Carlisle's arms came around me, pulling me close.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he whispered softly, after a moment of silence. "I know it worries you that I can't seem to let go of my fears. This is supposed to be a time filled with happiness and joy...and I'm afraid I'm ruining these first few unique months for you with my neurotic behaviour. I don't mean to. I don't want you to start worrying and fearing like I do. I'd never want it to be _you_ , getting up in the middle of the night to make sure he's breathing, or to make sure he still has a pulse. I don't want you to be anxious about everything like I am. I don't want you to be alarmed by every tiny sound he makes and then fear that something's wrong." He let out a long, slow breath.

"I understand why you do those things," I murmured softly. "Of course, I wish you didn't feel the need to get up in the middle of the night to check his temperature, for instance. But I understand why you do it. The question is...does it make you feel better? Calmer?"

He was silent for a long while. "Yes...and no," he eventually answered. "It makes me feel...I suppose it makes me feel like I'm at least doing something. That...at least I've tried to do everything I can, in case something happens. In case he gets sick or something."

"Carlisle, he's going to get sick at some point," I reminded him gently. "And when he begins to crawl, and eventually walk, he's going to bump into things, and he's going to fall down – at least thirty times a day, since he kind of has my genes – and when that happens, when he starts getting small cuts and bumps and bruises..."

I felt him nod. "I know. I'm going to have to deal with that without losing my mind." He was silent for a beat. "I suppose...I don't know. Sometimes, I don't worry so much about those small, harmless injuries he might get. I suppose I keep fearing those things I have less control over. Things I have no way of stopping. No way of preventing."

"Is that why...you wanted to get that breathing monitor?"

He didn't answer, but he didn't have to.

"Carlisle, crib deaths are rare. You know that. And as a former doctor, you're also fully aware that, since the cause is unknown, preventing it from happening is sometimes impossible. You also know we're doing everything we can – that we're doing everything right. We lay him down on his back, we don't use bedding that's too soft, he sleeps in the same room with us, close to our bed..."

I felt him nod again. "I know. And I know those are pretty much the only things we can do. And I know the monitor is probably going overboard – it's there just for my mental health."

"And we can keep it there, of course, if it helps you. And you can keep getting up in the middle of the night to check on him, if that's what you need to do. But I don't want you to collapse from exhaustion. I'm sure this first year is going to be challenging enough as it is."

He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're right." He placed a soft kiss on my cheek, tightening his hold around me. "I'm glad you're able to keep your head cool. That you're here to talk sense to me, whenever I'm close to losing it. You shouldn't have to do that – you've done so much for me already. You've given me so much, Bella. If someone had told me ten years ago – or _one_ year ago – that I'd be here...that I'd have a woman like you by my side, and I'd be married...that I'd be raising a son..." He trailed off, swallowing. "You...you changed everything. The thought of never meeting you...it horrifies me."

I leaned closer to kiss him softly. "But we did meet. I'm here, and you're here, and little Noah's here. What else do we need?"

"Nothing," he whispered, nuzzling my nose with his. "Everything's here. Right here."

He tightened hold around me. I let my eyes slip closed, because he was right. Everything was here, everything we needed.

"Try to get some sleep now, okay?" I suggested.

"Yes, Ma'am."

I smiled, touching my forehead to his. Closing my eyes, I sighed, feeling deliciously sleepy. I shifted into a better position, snuggling closer to Carlisle's warm body.

And as soon as I did...Noah let out a shrill, hungry cry and began to fuss.

Carlisle gave a soft laugh, rolling onto his back and turning on the bedside light on his side, before getting up. As I sat up myself, rubbing a hand over my eyes, he shook his head and smiled.

"Don't get up," he murmured. He turned around and reached into the crib, gently taking the restless baby into his arms and carrying him to me.

I lay down on my side, undoing the buttons of my pajama top, resting my head against the pillows, as Carlisle placed the baby next to me. The quiet cries ceased, as Noah's skin came in contact with mine, and within a few seconds, he seemed perfectly content again, as he began to suckle greedily.

"Doesn't take much to make you happy, does it?" I cooed at the nursing baby.

Carlisle chuckled, placing one more pillow under my head to support my neck. Then, he lay down on his side, facing me and gently stroking our baby's back.

I could have stayed there and watched them both forever; the look in Carlisle's eyes, as he gazed at our son...it was indescribable. So many emotions could flash through his eyes during a few short seconds. He could look absolutely horrified one moment, as if it had just occurred to him that it was his job to keep this little, vulnerable bundle safe and unharmed, and the next moment, he might seem utterly calm, like some new peace had settled over him. Like he suddenly realized that, yes, maybe he could do this. Maybe he could keep him safe, after all, despite those quiet whispers of fear that too often tormented him and kept him awake at night.

It still brought tears to my eyes, seeing him like this. His occasional anxiety and restlessness always made my heart ache, but as that peace, that evident joy and certainty, stepped into their place a moment later...I felt like my heart was overflowing with emotions. With happiness. With relief.

Edward had been right; Carlisle was always meant to be a father. He'd never stopped being one.

He placed a finger against the baby's tiny toes, smiling as they curled down. Then, he stroked his hand along Noah's back, his touch so gentle and light, it was barely there; it was like he was afraid the baby might break into pieces, like Noah was as fragile as glass.

I thought to myself that, sometimes, it described Carlisle more. That it was him who was fragile, easily breakable, so frail that a breath of wind might blow him away. But at the same time...at the same time, he was the exact opposite. Strength personified.

And sometimes...sometimes, the things that made him so fragile, the things that had once broken him into small pieces...sometimes, those same things would build him anew and make him whole again.

His eyes were soft, as he watched me and the baby. His deep blue eyes, blue like cornflowers. Blue like the sky after an all-night thunderstorm.

He drew in a deep breath. "He's so much calmer than Alice was at this age," he suddenly murmured, his voice quiet. "She almost never slept at night, and sometimes, nothing would soothe her. She didn't even have colic or anything. She was just...restless."

I held my breath; it wasn't often he talked about Alice, but I knew ever since Noah had been born, he'd been thinking about her a lot. Reliving her short life.

My eyes found the photo of her on his bedside table; he'd finally put one of them in a frame and placed it somewhere he would see it every day.

"You'll tell him about her, won't you?" I heard myself whisper, turning to look at the baby again, feeling a catch in my heart, as one tiny finger wrapped around my own. "When he gets older?"

A sad, familiar smile curved Carlisle's lips. He hesitated. "I already do," he confessed quietly. "Sometimes, when he sleeps."

I smiled, surprised. "You do?"

He nodded.

"What kinds of things do you tell him?" I asked softly, shifting slightly and resting my head back.

He was silent for a moment, gently cupping our baby's head. "I tell him...about some of the funny things she used say. And I tell him about her favorite things. Things she enjoyed, things she loved." He gave a soft, quiet chuckle. "And I also tell him...about the things she found irritating. She absolutely loathed Esme and me, whenever we made her wear shoes. She didn't like shoes. Clothes were fine, but shoes...absolutely not. She always wanted to be barefoot. Always, even if it was pouring rain outside." He shook his head, smiling. "She said...shoes slow her down too much. That they made her steps too heavy."

His words made me smile sadly. I caressed the back of Noah's head, gently stroking the dark, fine wisps of hair covering his head.

"I wonder if he'll have her hair," I murmured.

Carlisle smiled. "Maybe. Or maybe he'll get yours." He reached out to tuck one brown lock behind my ear. Suddenly, he sobered, a shadow crossing his eyes, as he looked at the baby. "One day...one day, he's going to ask where she is. Why she isn't here. Why he won't get to meet her." He exhaled slowly, swallowing. "How can I tell him...when he does?"

I gently pulled my finger free from Noah's grasp, noticing his suckling had begun to slow; he looked like he was half asleep. I took Carlisle's hand, holding it tightly.

"Are you afraid telling him will make him sad?" I asked softly. "Or that it'll make _you_ sad?"

He shook his head, giving a bleak, soft laugh. "Maybe both." He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Back when Seth and Elizabeth started asking questions about Alice, wondering why they'd never meet their cousin, Edward and Irina used to tell them she'd become an angel before they were born. It's a comforting, beautiful way to put it, but...I don't know. Sometimes, an answer like that might confuse a child. Depending on the situation, maybe it's...better...to talk about things as they are. Without hiding. Without pretense. Without fear. You taught me that." He paused. "Maybe it's better, yes, but...it's also harder."

I didn't say anything, just held his hand tightly. Carlisle gave me a small smile, pulling in a slow breath. "Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself again," he murmured, his eyes on the baby now. "He can't even speak yet, after all. Maybe I should just try to learn to take every moment as it comes, instead of worrying about tomorrow."

"I think that's a good idea," I answered, smiling. "That's how the two of us started, after all. By taking it one moment at a time. And when it comes to worrying about tomorrow...I think we've worried about things enough for one lifetime. At least you have."

He smiled softly. "You're right. Worrying and fearing...they can so easily become a permanent state of mind. And before you even know it, they're suddenly dictating your every step. Your whole life, your whole existence. I should know that."

"Not anymore, though," I murmured softly. "Things are different now. There might be those whispers of uncertainty and fear every now and then, but that's to be expected. Those are an inevitable part of parenthood. Inevitable part of life. And that's what they should always be. Just _one_ part of life. Then, there all those other parts, other things, other pieces and other feelings that make up a life...and they'll be enough to keep the fear at bay, or at least tolerable."

Carlisle nodded. He withdrew his hand from mine and reached out to touch my cheek. "I'll always remember the time when I didn't have those other parts. Those other pieces. Feelings. When there was only darkness." He shook his head slowly, frowning. "Now, looking back on it, I have no idea how I got through every day. Even though I had Esme and Edward, I was merely surviving, merely existing. Every breath I took was a forced action that just served as a cruel way to prolong my torment." His hand stroked my cheek again. I covered it with my own.

"And now?" I asked softly.

He smiled. "Now...now, I feel like every breath I draw is a precious gift. Suddenly, the air in my lungs is there to sustain me, to keep me alive, instead of burning me to ashes. I'm no longer merely existing, merely surviving." He paused, stroking his knuckles along my cheek. "I don't even know when that changed. When that endless haze of black and white and grey became an outburst of colors. When the sunsets began to mark beginnings instead of endings. When those endless nights stopped being so endless." He paused, taking my hand again.

"Maybe it was around the time when I realized...that I missed you whenever we were apart. Or maybe it was when you spent that first night here, in this bed, and I lay awake, listening to the sound of your breathing. Or maybe it was when I once heard you say goodnight to your old truck, and I realized the reason you love it so much is because your father gave it to you, and I found that very endearing.

"Or maybe it was when I saw you that one afternoon all those months ago; you'd just come from Rosalie's salon, and I saw you'd been crying. I realized...it troubled me, pained me, seeing you like that." He gave me a close look. "You never told me why you were upset. I've wondered about it more than once."

I gave him a small smile. "That was the day I fully acknowledged I was in love with you. And back then, I still believed I'd have to walk away from you someday, or you'd walk away from me. I just knew it'd happen sooner or later, and...I tried to force mysef to accept that. That you didn't feel the same about me as I did for you. It made me...sad."

His hand around mine tightened. "You'll never have to fear that again, Bella. We'll never walk away from each other. Instead, we'll walk side by side. How does that sound?"

I smiled. "Perfect," I whispered. "That sounds more than perfect."

There was a quiet, content sigh; we both glanced down at the little baby boy nestled between us. Noah was fast asleep, his tiny lips still pressing against my skin, his small fingers now wrapped around a button on my pajama top. I shifted, holding my breath, as I gently disengaged his fingers from the button. Carlisle gathered Noah into his arms, holding the sleeping baby to his chest, as he got up carefully and made his way to the crib with soft, soundless steps. He didn't ease the baby into his crib right away. He spent a moment just holding him to his chest, pressing a cheek against the sleeping child's small head. And then, he just stood there for a while, closing his eyes.

I watched him, watched them both. My two own precious pieces of joy that made up my whole life, two persons who had turned my world upside down, when I'd least expected it. My very own tide, and my very own warm breeze.

As Carlisle leaned down to settle the baby into his crib, Noah didn't let out a sound. It was as if he was fully aware of his own name. Noah...it truly seemed to mean rest, repose, comfort. I saw those things in Carlisle, as I watched him gazing down at our sleeping baby. And I somehow knew that, for once, he wasn't feeling restless or afraid. In that moment, he wasn't counting his child's quiet breaths and fearing he'd someday be faced with cold, empty silence.

As he returned to the bed, once again, he gently touched the framed photo on his nightstand, before turning out the beside light, and a moment later, he was pulling the covers over us and wrapping his arms around me, bringing me closer to his chest.

"Everything's here," he whispered quietly, repeating his words from moments ago.

He was right. Everything was here. And at last, there seemed to be repose, comfort, even for him. At last, there was no whisper of sadness in his smile. Instead, there were whispers of other things, wonderful things. Whispers of trust and peace...and hope.

Hope. In the storms of life, hope was sometimes the first thing to go. But sometimes...sometimes, it could also be the first thing to return. It made me dare to dream that a stubborn, golden-haired baby girl with deep blue eyes named Marie would also join our little family someday.

In the soft glow of the nightlight, Carlisle's eyes found mine. His deep, blue eyes. Blue like fields full of cornflowers. Blue like the sea at its most quiet time.

At last, they weren't older than the rest of him, his eyes. At last, that ancient sadness I'd once seen in them seemed to be gone forever.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _I want to thank every reader and reviewer I've had. Words can't describe how much it means to a writer to know that someone out there is looking forward to the next update. Once again, I'd also like to thank Dollybigmomma for the numerous improvements she has made to the story. Her patience rivals that of a saint!_

 _About the little golden-haired girl Bella kept dreaming about...the reader is free to make their own interpretations about her. Maybe she was just a figment of Bella's imagination, but I'd like to think they have another child in the future. I think Noah would love to have a little sister, and having another daughter would mean so much to Carlisle._

 _I went back and forth about what to do with Carlisle's medical career. Maybe some of you imagined/hoped he would go back to being a doctor, and that would be part of their Happily Ever After. This thought was very appealing to me, but when I considered it, I came to the conclusion that Carlisle would rather stay as a professor, mostly because his schedule would be more steady. He missed a lot of things with Alice because of his crazy working hours at the hospital, and I'd like to believe he wouldn't want to repeat that with Noah._

 _Every now and then, someone leaves a review and says they hope I keep writing Bella/Carlisle fanfiction. Thank you, I'm very flattered. This is my favorite pairing of all time, and it has been a pleasure to write stories about them. These two make my heart race and my blood dance like there's no tomorrow. I do_ _have (at least) one more B/C story to tell, and I've been working on it since November. It's a very slow progress, though, and the plot still has some holes that need figuring out. That is why I won't start posting before I get it finished, and I have no way to tell when that happens. It could be six months from now, or it could be two years from now. I sincerely hope I find the time and inspiration to finish it someday, and sooner rather than later.  
_

 _Once again, thank you for reading. Until next time!_

 _Aylen_


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